


I See Fire

by SiennaBlue



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Explicit Sexual Content, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-12
Updated: 2016-06-14
Packaged: 2018-05-06 06:07:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 34,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5405855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SiennaBlue/pseuds/SiennaBlue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"<i>You lived what anybody gets. You got a lifetime. No more. No less. You got a lifetime.</i>" </p><p> . . . Breathe, kill, bleed, fight – The Game of Life, SOLDIER edition.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A is for Beginnings . . .

**Author's Note:**

> I've cooked up the plot to this monster lying awake in bed. Then I made the mistake of telling someone about it. They bribed me into writing it... *flailingkermitarms* I don't have time to write a fleshed out 100k+ Genesis/Cloud fic, and that is what a plot like this would turn into if I let it! We compromised I'd write it in installments instead, neat little glimpses into this 'verse. 
> 
> It follows the plot of Crisis Core to a certain degree, let me say that on how it will go. Certain things that happen in the game are happening or are going to happen here, too, some are not. Keep an eye on the tags. Okay! On with the story....

"Can't say I've ever been too fond of beginnings, myself. Messy little things. Give me  
a good ending anytime. You know where you are with an ending."  
\- The eldest of the three Fates; Neil Gaiman, _The Sandman_

  
  


"I don't get it. It has to be here."

The 'it' the voice refers to should indeed be right there. 

On Genesis's desk, buried, perhaps, beneath a mountain of paperwork or somewhere a bit off to the side, nestled between two forgotten folders, maybe lying about in one of the drawers alongside boxes of paperclips and rubber bands. 

It isn't anywhere near there right now for one reason and one reason alone: the item has been carefully tugged between two pages of a book Genesis never goes far without. 

_My friend, the fates are cruel..._

Genesis snorts. 

"With Angeal and Sephiroth both gone, it should be here."

And again, the voice isn't wrong. Looking over as plain things such as schedules and approving slots for, say, the VR training rooms, apparently fall right into his newly assigned field of duty. A waste of his most valuable time, of course. And a fact that still vexes him. Why he should be the one to deal with it in Sephiroth absence. It's beyond him. 

He has, after all, better things to do. Important things. He had debated that factor with the Director, passionately and at length. Until Lazard had finally asked him to shut up and leave. He had been much more polite than that, naturally, but it amounted to the same thing. An hour later, Genesis had gotten a note from President ShinRa, telling him to get over himself and do his job. 

And no matter how much he likes to bend the rules in this place however he likes, paperwork it was.

"I don't think we should be doing this."

 _That_ voice Genesis doesn't recognize. Soft and quiet, careful—and therefore wholly opposite Zack Fair's boisterous one. The owner of the voice is also right. They are, in fact, breaking the law, nosing about where they have no authority doing anything at all. 

Genesis relaxes his pose, grinning, slumping a little where he's leaning on the wall at his back. 

"Aw, don't fret, Spiky, it'll be okay! We'll get there, don't worry. If I could just find that damn list! Crap, where did he _put_ it?"

"Maybe it's really not here."

"Where else would it be? Genesis hates doing all this crap, he ain't gonna drag it anywhere with him, least of all a _LOVELESS_ performance." 

Well, when he's right three times in a row... _Give the puppy a cookie!_

"So... where is it?"

Fair question, that. The sound of someone dropping into an armchair. He can almost see it in his head, Fair's lanky form slumping over like a marionette with its strings cut, run out of steam. "I dunno."

Momentary silence from the other room. "It's not important. Lets just get out of here before someone actually notices."

The rustle of cloth as Zack gets up, the squeak of leather upholstery. "No one's gonna notice. You saw the guards. And it is important! I want you to—aw, come on! Nothing's gonna happen, I promise!" 

Way too easy to get past the guards, Genesis has noticed too, and he makes a mental note to remedy that lapse. Later. Now he's curious to see how this will play out. Because up to now, he has to say, it's turned out to be quite the intriguing show. It's a good thing it's this late with the hallways as deserted as they are, lest someone will stumble upon him and wonder why he's stalking the corridor outside his own office. 

Inside, the owner of the unfamiliar voice sighs. "But what if--"

The puppy laughs. "Easy. No one is going to get in trouble 'cause we won't be caught, got it?"

"Got it."

They are moving towards the door now, he can tell by their voices. He won't have to wait long, then.

"Aw, Spiky, don't make that face!"

"I'm not making any face."

"You're just humoring me, admit it, imagining all the worst case scenarios in that spiky head of yours! Nuh-uh, don't even try deny it, buddy, I know ya!"

Genesis can't help the smirk. It's futile. Faced with Zack Fair's particular brand of exuberance, you can't remain unaffected. It's a good thing Genesis is as good an actor as he is or the puppy would certainly bother him more—well, more than he already does—just to make a point and get a reaction out of the Commander. 

A scandalized, "Zack! Stop it!" and careless laughter precedes the hiss of the door's opening. 

Genesis straightens his pose, wiping the grin off his face. Showtime. 

Half a second later, Zack Fair steps out of the darkened office—and trips right over Genesis's inconveniently positioned foot. 

Reckoning paying attention to your environment at all times is an essential part of being a SOLDIER, a disgrace. 

Paying the price for failing to do so, this particular SOLDIER goes down with no chance at all, sprawling, hitting the floor face down with a muffled thump. _Hm._ Fair rolls over onto his back immediately, about to leap to his feet and confront his tormentor, surely—only to freeze dead at the sight of him. Genesis can barely refrain from laughing in his face. 

He keeps staring instead.

The wannabe thief starts to fidget like Genesis knew he would eventually. "Uh, hi?" 

Genesis stays quiet, waiting. _Waiting_. Footsteps, standard army boots, not too far away. He holds up a hand when the downed SOLDIER opens his mouth—having it snap right back shut at the motion. What do you know. It's quite flattering that it still works so well on the Second now as it had when he'd been no more than Angeal's newly appointed trainee and a stranger. 

A second later a pair of guards round the corner, stopping in their tracks when they spot the group dwelling in the hallway, utterly surprised. They shouldn't be. Looking back and forth between them, one guard finally seems to remember his duty by addressing him. "Is... everything all right, Sir?"

He doesn't bother sparing them a second glance. "Perfectly." _Move along_ , that's what Genesis's body language conveys and they better do so before he changes his mind and teaches them a lesson right there. Considering they in fact had failed to notice the two intruders themselves before they could get to Genesis's office, it would be vindicated. 

Not that he cares about what's vindicated and not. Most of the time. 

"Yes, Sir!"

He waits until they are out of earshot before addressing the actual problem. "Stand up."

As he does, Fair pats himself down, wiping imaginary dirt off his uniform before facing Genesis head-on. "Genesis--" Raising his brows at the casual use of his first name, Zack corrects himself rather quickly. Don't let anyone fool you. Zack Fair is smart exactly when he needs to be. "Sir, it's not what it looks like."

It's exactly what it looks like. "No? Than inform me, what is it?"

"Uh, I was just looking for my phone, you know how stingy the guys down in tech get when you lose it. Again. I thought I might have left it in your office. Yesterday."

"And you had to resort to breaking and entering to do so." Let alone spend an entire day failing to miss it, of course.

"Eh, you're a busy guy these days. I didn't want to bother ya."

Busy with paperwork. Yes. Genesis inwardly grimaces at the reminder.

"Naturally."

"Yeah! And yesterday Kunsel said you were going to--"

Genesis nearly laughs. "Yes?"

Hands up in surrender, Zack back-paddles promptly, apparently not wanting to involve yet another friend nor dig himself in any deeper. Loyal puppy indeed. "Uh, nothing! I just didn't want to bother you too much. Honest!"

Genesis hardly blinks, unmoved. It's almost too easy to tell he's lying. Even not knowing what he knows, he'd know just by looking at him. The redhead prides himself on being able to read people on first glance and rarely be proven wrong after. Zack Fair, in this moment at least, is as transparent as glass.

Straightening to his full height, he steps into the younger man's personal space. Still a point in his favor that Fair hardly reacts at all. "I don't believe you." Spoken softly, almost casually, it's a warning. This time, kicked puppy eyes accuse him as soon as he resumes his former spot. "Oh, I do believe you were looking for something, Zack Fair, but certainly not your phone." 

Eyes never wavering, he fishes LOVELESS from his pocket, freeing the neatly folded piece of paper from the book's clasp.

"Are you sure it was your phone you were looking for?" He cuts Zack off even before he can answer. " _Do_ think before you reply, Lieutenant."

The puppy folds like a house of cards. "How'd ya know?"

He lets himself smirk. "As compared to your friend Kunsel, I actually _do_ know everything that is going on here." What he deems noteworthy, that is, but. Details. 

"So there wasn't a LOVELESS performance."

"Oh, there most certainly was a LOVELESS performance, I simply had no intention of attending once I realized your little plot. People just assumed, wrongly, I might add, as they often do."

Zack sighs, sheepishly scratching the back of his head. "Uh, you're not gonna tell Angeal when he gets back, right? You didn't want the guards to know, so..." Puppy dog eyes, a tilt of the head, imploring hands, that's one part of Zack Fair for you, all right. Exactly the part that got him the nickname. "Please?"

It's a good thing Genesis is unaffected, because, _oh_ , he is _good_! Genesis keeps forgetting that when he shouldn't. That his childhood friend is more of a concern in respect of retribution than the company they all work for, that will never get old. Nor has it stopped being funny. "No." The growing smile of relief dies a sudden death at Genesis's next words. "You will. And I will be there to see you squirm." 

If he can stomach that lecture without falling asleep. _Again._

Angeal's speeches hadn't gotten more entertaining with time. Au contraire. 

If they had—and considering how often he himself had been on the receiving end of one, he'd know—Genesis would have sworn off his dearest _LOVELESS_ years ago, quoting his friend's gospel in lieu thereof. He'll leave that to Angeal's fan club, thank you very much. 

But. No. Still tedious. Still the same old. 

Dreams, honor, etcetera, etcetera, so on and so forth. 

Genesis knows how that is going to go even now. Angeal will frown and tut in disapproval as Fair explains the situation. Then he'll appeal to his student's conscience with the same disappointed look Genesis is well acquainted with. They have done it all before, this play, know all the lines, all the parties involved. The cast may change from time to time, the script never does. 

And truth be told, this little deed of mischief is hardly worth making a fuss over. 

By the Goddess, he actually finds it humorous, the little 'mission' a temporary respite from sitting in his office all day long. He won't let Zack Fair in on that though, tempting as it may be. Trust the Second Class to take it upon himself and get up to more mischief in the name of helping Genesis out. And as much as he'd like to get away from the paperwork, he refuses to play babysitter. That's Angeal's job. 

Mentor, babysitter, it reads the same to him. 

Genesis cuts his eyes to Fair's partner in crime. The friend who had jumped to attention the moment he must have recognized Genesis, not saying anything at all. He'll grant the blond that, at the least. Looking at him now, though, he isn't exactly what Genesis had expected. For once, he's wearing army issued boots.

Quite on the short side he is, too, delicate looking with a ridiculous head of spiky hair that puts even Fair's mop to shame—and a face so pretty it will, within the military, inevitably lead to trouble for the blond, Genesis knows. And the pretty face still hasn't moved. Smart, too, then. _Fascinating._

That he can't quite meet Genesis eyes, well, that's hardly his fault. More powerful man than this lithe blond don't have it in them. "At ease, Private," he remarks, "I trust the army assigns you more legitimate tasks than just breaking into my office?"

"Genesis—"

"Yes, Sir."

"Than I suggest you go find some and do them, Private."

"Of course, Sir. Thank you, Sir!" With a fleeting, almost apologetic look aimed at his dark-haired friend, the young trooper salutes them both and hastens away. Genesis can't help but watch him go, watch until he rounds the corner. 

_Huh._ Pretty little thing indeed. 

"Uh, it's really not his fault, ya know..."

Mako eyes meet mako eyes as Genesis looks back. "Oh, I am aware."

"Then why were you looking at him all intense and shit?"

Genesis decides to ignore that question. "More important, Zack Fair, what _did_ you and your little friend think to accomplish by stealing that list? And do remember, I know you are not that stupid, Zack the puppy."

"Uh..."

Reluctance. Interesting. "Fine. Keep your secret for now." 

The Second visibly relaxes at that. He'll regret it in a minute. 

"But. Since you seem so interested in my work that you would go looking for it at this hour, you may do so during regular office hours instead." Genesis watches in satisfaction as the meaning of his words hits the Second, eyes wide in disbelief. _Ah, puppy, you should know better than that._ "Considering I have more than my fair share of paperwork right now, meet me here tomorrow and perhaps, _perhaps_ Angeal doesn't have to know about your little... escapades tonight."

Zack Fair's groan is music to his ears as they stride away, the click of heeled boots the only sound disrupting the silence in the once again utterly deserted hallway.


	2. Strangers in the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of gray nights and blond strangers....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There wasn't much of Cloud in the first chapter, was there? And considering this is a Genesis/Cloud thing, some of you probably want to see _some_ interaction between the two. It's almost Christmas, so here you go, have the second installment already. Please don't get used to this being updated every week or so, though. It won't happen. But a big part of the next few installment have been written, so, yeah. We'll see how it goes...

"You pass People on the street, some are for you, some are not."  
\- Robert Henri, _The Art Spirit_

  
  
It's been raining since the night before last. 

Genesis had woken to the rumble of thunder, mother nature putting on quite the show with lightning streaking across the horizon. 

The storm had moved in on Midgar surprisingly swiftly after that, carrying with it rainfall so heavy even mako eyes can barely penetrate the wet curtain outside, could barely make out the usual bright, colorful glow of the city's accustomed evening attire. Now it's all gray. All washed out and vague, most alien in its obtuseness. Not that his mood helps any.

Standing in front of the floor to ceiling windows and taking it all in, Genesis sighs. Gray. Gray, gray, gray. All gray and more gray. Everything is gray, perhaps even the mud that gets everywhere. Gray and bleak. Common. Even his red coat looks faded in the reflection, color forfeiting given the stark scene beyond the glass. Looking the other way, at his desk, provides no relief. What awaits there is partially to blame for his irritated mood. 

Still buried in paperwork is what he is—Angeal is still in Wutai and the great General himself had barely gotten a foot in the door before President ShinRa had whisked him away yet again. Officially to play bodyguard to the man's backside at some event or other at Costa Del Sol. Genesis snorts. More like to show Sephiroth off to the nations.

Of course that leaves him once more with a multitude of extra duties. And worse, bored out of his mind.

With none of the two Firsts around, there's no one to spar with either, not really, not for fun, not for any kind of challenge. 

Even so, Zack Fair has done his best to keep him entertained and in a satisfactory mood since his flirt with felony some weeks ago, going so far as to show up with a cup of his favorite brand of coffee at random intervals.

Genesis's mouth twitches. Sometimes he can't help wonder if the Second feels like he's babysitting _Genesis_. And if he does, if he minds. Perhaps not, considering who he's thinking of. Zack Fair likes spending time with everyone, even lowly infantrymen, provided they are not, and he's quoting now, total assholes. Genesis's _own_ asshole behavior, meanwhile, goes unmentioned. 

Why is forever beyond him. 

_Infinite in mystery is the gift of the Goddess..._

Huffing, he at last turns away from the windows' depressing views. Pocketing LOVELESS and his access card, he quickly walks past his work towards the exit. Oh yes. Somewhere, someone will have to brave the disastrous weather outside and get him a serving of that favorite brand of coffee. Either that or he'll set the training rooms aflame again.

An accident, naturally, and do not let anyone tell you otherwise. 

Ever. 

When he slips out of the door, everything is quiet, the hallway wholly deserted. Even the lights are dimmed, a right testament to the advanced hour of the day—or night, as it may be. Genesis silently curses. He won't find anyone up here to order about, then. _Marvelous_. Turning on the heels of his boots, he strides towards the elevators, a SOLDIER on a mission.

Two corridors along and Genesis has to reconsider that assessment. Voices. _Guards._ He can clearly hear them talk among themselves, even from here, even when they are trying to be unobtrusive. Genesis grins. What a pleasant surprise this will be. Well, a trip to the coffee shop will certainly provide them with a breathe of fresh air. They surely need it, after patrolling the stuffy floor for hours. Genesis quickens his pace in gleeful anticipation. 

He stops abruptly, however, when the topic of their conversation registers in his mind. 

"...out of here," one of them is saying, having Genesis slipping back around the corner and out of sight. Not that they'd notice. They are too busy playing cards. "Patrolling empty hallways is shit, Sonny."

Genesis would point out that they are not patrolling anything at the moment, sitting on the floor like they are, but that would ruin his whole concealing act. 

"Not that I disagree, but pretty back there might."

An ugly snort. "He still trying to get in with the posers? Heard he and that cocky Second he's hanging with, what's his name, are pretty tight." 

"Oh I betcha they are. Have ya seen the kid's mouth?" Vicious laughter follows the statement. "Musta have _some_ assets, ya know, reason to be kept 'round, yeah?"

Genesis frowns. He doesn't know many SOLDIERs who 'hang out' with army grunts, but then he isn't particularly interested in knowing. There's one who stands out, though, even to him, and if they are talking about who he thinks they are talking about... His frowns deepens. 

"Think SOLDIER boy is up to that kinda thing?"

"Eh, wouldn't be surprised. Considering who else he hangs out with..."

"True. But kid probably knows everybody anyway, people person, knows everyone, that kinda thing, ya know, so..."

And that, oh, that. That is significant. Genesis bristles. There's only one SOLDIER in all of ShinRa with that kind of reputation. 

"Probably knows how to get around, too."

More boisterous laughter. Genesis wants to set their hair on fire. Little what there is. "But seriously, I wanna get out of here, see the missus." 

"Oho, I'm with ya." He raises his voice. "Yo, Strife, how 'bout we call it a night?"

The answer is reluctant in coming, almost like the recruit doesn't want to speak at all. Well. Genesis doesn't blame him, he wouldn't want to associate with such lowlife either. "Shift isn't over yet."

Soft spoken words, and Genesis straightens. _Oh!_ He _knows_ that voice. And with this particular piece all other pieces fall perfectly into place. He doesn't like the picture they disclose one bit. "Are ya seeing anyone round here to rat us out, kid?"

"And you wouldn't, would ya, pretty? Wouldn't want to ruin your chances with that SOLDIER of yours, would ya?"

"What?"

"The one you're hanging around with all alone in SOLDIER training rooms, ya know for... _sword fighting_ , of course."

And the way he says it, Genesis doesn't need much imagination to figure out he means something entirely else. He narrows his eyes, fingers itching for his Fire materia, to do something. More laughter from around the corner. 

"Aw, blushin' like a fuckin' virgin! Tell me, does he like that in his playthings, pretty boy?"

"Leave him out of this!" There's a bit of fire in that voice now. _Good._ They deserve to burn. 

"Or what?"

Silence, followed by noises that sound too much like a scuffle to be anything else, the rustle of clothes and bodies, culmination in a sharp smack and a dull thump immediately after.

Apprehension has him take a step forward, just enough to peek around the corner. On the floor, holding his face, is indeed no other than Zack Fair's friend, the blond hair a distinctive feature. 

"Don't worry yer pretty head, there's no one here to impress, kid. The bastards are probably all wrapped up in someone's loving arms, most likely each others, if ya get my drift!"

Their laughter grates. Genesis gets the drift and he feels his temper flare. _How dare they._ He stays his hand, however, for now. Waiting what they'll do next. He's almost disappointed when nothing happens, when they keep standing over their downed comrade like idiots. It'd have been a perfect excuse to maybe scorch them a little. Not that he needs excuses. 

They do have more to say, unfortunately, and Genesis silently sighs. Waste of air, that. Time. Space. Everything. 

"Keep guarding an empty floor for all I care, we're outta here. Just remember to keep yer pretty mouth shut!" With own last threatening look they leave, failing to spot him even as they pass only a stone's throw away. _Fools._

He waits until the blond has clambered back to his feet, one hand continuing to prod at his face, before stepping into the light and the private's sight. Strife—they had been calling him that, hadn't they—straightens as soon as he notices, jumping to attention exactly like he'd done that other time they'd met.

"S-sir!"

A flick of the hand waves it away. "At ease, Private." 

Embarrassed, the young man's face is almost as red as the blood that wells from the cut on his cheek.

"I don't assume you want to tell me it's not what it's looks like."

"I'm sorry you had to come across this, Sir."

Genesis's brows shoot up in surprise. "Come again?"

"I should have paid better attention."

"You are not the one abandoning your post." Not to mention starting that little display of a pissing contest.

Shoulders slouching, he eyes the floor like it's the most interesting thing invented by men. It's not. "No, but still--"

Watching him stand there, bleeding, in all probability waiting to be reprimanded in some way or other—he's a picture of misery, not wanting to do or say anything wrong. More wrong. He must be aware of Genesis's reputation, at any rate. Genesis comes to a decision, then, one he will likely regret in the morning. Or an hour from now. 

"Come with me."

He doesn't bother looking back as he starts walking. It's beneath him. 

A beat, another, a voice follows him, not footsteps. 

"Sir, all due respect, I--I don't think this is--"

"Be quiet," he orders, "and walk. You can do that, can't you?"

Another beat, and finally, finally he is being followed, hasty strides aiming to catch up. To the trooper's credit, he actually manages to stay quiet.

Satisfied, Genesis leads him back the way he's come, right back to the office he thought he'd left behind a mere minutes ago. Behind him, Strife suddenly freezes. Ah yes. They'd met in exactly this spot, hadn't they, an encounter mere weeks past. Genesis grins to himself. Strife likely also remembers how that meeting had come to pass. 

"And to think this time you don't even have to break in..."

The door swishes open for him and he waves Strife's words away with a flick of a hand, whatever they were, ushering him inside with another. "Take a seat and do be careful not to bleed on the upholstery." Walking up to his desk, he opens the second drawer from the bottom. Without so much as a word he positions the box of tissue paper within Strife's reach. "Do you require a mirror to clean that up?" 

"N-no Sir." 

Genesis watches as he snatches up a fistful of tissues and hastily dabs at the cut, grimacing a little as he goes. Genesis rolls his eyes. _Hmpf!_ "Hold it there, it'll stop bleeding more quickly."

Reemerging from behind his desk, he positions himself at the bookshelf across from his visitor. It provides Genesis with the perfect spot to study him. Strife doesn't seem the least bit surprised at tonight's events. Or worried, for that matter, and it intrigues Genesis. It's almost as if this were business as usual, nothing to make a fuss over, or get upset about, perfectly normal. 

Which is convenient. Genesis doesn't deal with upset people. 

The nervous tremble of his hands, the shake of his voice, before, it might solely be attributed to Genesis's presence, to not knowing why he'd been brought along. He can forgive it, under the circumstances.

It does, however, paint a clearer picture of the situation than he'd like.

He's used to it, Genesis concludes, that's it. Thus made it a habit not to care about the words thrown his way. To appear perfectly at ease with people insulting him. 

The response is understandable, certainly. Perhaps even somewhat astute, given the environment, but it's still something that sparks Genesis's ire. Strife shouldn't let anyone treat him this way. Not that it matters to him, let it be understood. Genesis Rhapsodos isn't known for being the caring type. Goddess, he doesn't care about people he's known for years beyond them being his subordinates, lest he should care about some random recruit he's met twice.

Angeal chides him for that way of thinking from time to time, always has, but he doesn't want it any other way. There are a handful of people he does care about, _truly_ cares about, but he can count them on the fingers of his hands and still have fingers left. As long as they respect him and don't get in his way, Genesis doesn't care what the rest think.

Why would he? 

And yet, there's something incomprehensible making itself know at the back of his mind, something he can't quite grasp, that disagrees, at least where the blond is concerned. Something that begs him to pay attention. Just a little more. Which is, Genesis knows, a dangerous thing. 

There's one thing he'd like to know though, before he sends Strife away. 

"Why confront them? Back there, you were perfectly at ease with letting them insult you. But as soon as they implied—as soon as they said what they said about you and Fair," he amends when the blond cheeks color, eyes jumping nervously all over the room, "why not stay quiet, let them leave?" He motions at the pale face, the angry red line. "Why risk this?"

He can guess the answer, but he'd still like to hear it from the blond. 

"Lieutenant Fair, he's—always been kind to me, Sir. He's a good person. I won't let them insult him like that, not because of me." 

The last part is no more than a whisper, but Genesis's ears catch it anyhow. And, yes. Not exactly what he wanted to hear, but. Close enough. Under all that soft spoken, rehearsed passivity, there is still some backbone left in him. A stubborn streak. Good, he'll make it, then. Maybe not completely unscathed, but who ever does here, truly. 

Why that should be of importance to him at all, Genesis has no idea. 

"Fair enough. Get that cut taken care of, Private. Dismissed."

"Sir? My shift--"

Genesis raises a single brow. "Are you insinuating I am unqualified to watch this floor for the next half hour before your relief arrives?"

"No, Sir, of course not, Sir, I just thought--"

"Dismissed."

"Yes, Sir!"

With a sharp salute, the recruit heads for the door.

"Sir?"

Genesis doesn't bother looking up, inclining his head just enough to make it known he's paying attention. 

"Thank you."

The door closes behind the blond with a hiss.

For a moment he remains as he is, taking a deep breath and letting it out in a rush. And all that hassle for nothing, he's still lacking in coffee. Genesis smirks viciously. But, oh, he knows _exactly_ who will remedy that problem for him. All he needs are their names. 

A quick stride and Genesis wakes up the computer. Those two will rue they day they've first learned _his_ name.


	3. The Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of red missions and blue eyes...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year!

  


"[. . .] but remember it’s a sin to kill a mockingbird."  
― Harper Lee, _To Kill a Mockingbird_

  


Standing in the open door of a helicopter, air currents whip mercilessly at his face as the aircraft propels itself towards his objective. Genesis doesn't let himself blink, hands braced over his head to keep his footing. It's already been too long. 

He prides himself in his ruthless honesty. If Genesis were to be honest this very moment, there had been no reason to think it anything but a routine mission. Not with a First Class in charge. In and out, kill the monsters, clean up and make sure the villagers know who to thank for that—the end. Classy. 

Good, easy PR, making nice with the locals while they are at it for when the President decides he wants to build that mako reactor after all. 

No one had thought to think it would go any other way. 

Oh, there had been a lot of PR work done, Genesis concedes with a twisted smirk. Only, not the good kind. Not the kind ShinRa sought, here or anywhere.

In a streak of grotesque curiosity, Genesis almost looks forward to the cover up. To how their PR division will twist and turn this mess until it becomes something else, a shiny fairy tale spun media ready for the masses. Sold so the company comes out smelling like roses rather than blood and death. They'll probably have it at the ready upon his return to Midgar.

The aircraft surges to the left and Genesis shifts marginally to compensate. 

No one had expected a SOLDIER to turn on the company, turn into a terrorist. 

And they wouldn't even have been any wiser, would not have known to look into this very mission until much, much later, until the deployed units would have failed to return. They wouldn't have known, if it had not been for the message SOLDIER had received, advertising murder of the finest art by one of their own. Genesis had almost laughed at the irony.

He can clearly recall the director's face as he had entered Genesis's office, chalk-white and tight lipped. That detail on its own, that Lazard had come to him instead of the SOLDIER being summoned... it had told Genesis everything he had needed to know. Whatever the situation, it was dire. 

The way the man had not said a word as he'd handed over the tape—it had said everything else. With Angeal _still_ tied up in Wutai and Sephiroth on babysitting duty for the President if some other terrorist decided to take a shot, Genesis had been the only logical choice to send after the wayward SOLDIER. 

_"ETA sixty seconds."_

Behind him, his men ready themselves. 

The President hadn't pulled punches, had send an infantry platoon as well as a handful of Seconds and Thirds alongside him. Not because he thought it necessary Lazard had hastily assured him, not at all, but to make a point. To show the terrorists that they could. Show _everyone_ they could. And would. _If there's anyone left to appreciate such petty games._

His ear piece crackles to life a second time. _"The President wants the terrorist alive."_ Not the pilot, this voice is deeper, calmer. Warped. _Turk._ _"Remember to stick to that objective, Commander."_

For what reason they want him alive, Genesis had not cared to inquire even the first time. "Naturally." Perhaps to make an example of Cutter, perhaps as part of the cover up. Both. Genesis certainly wouldn't be surprised. _Infinite in mystery is the gift of the Goddess..._

They arrive in a maelstrom of air, two helicopters touching down to drop their cargo. Genesis is the first on the ground, standing still just long enough for his men to follow and the choppers to take back off into the clear blue sky. Genesis tenses, a spark of electricity prickling at the back of his neck. 

Eyes on him.

Genesis smirks. It will certainly make his task easier. "Move out." They are a few klicks north of the village, it won't take too long to get there.

  


* * *

  


When they reach the first few buildings—white picket fenced and pastel-colored, nestled in deep green, well cared for lawns—the initial thing that stands out is the silence. No birds chirping, no sign of animals or movement anywhere. No voices to accuse them, no demands, no threats to chase them away. 

The silence is too loud in his ears, a sharp copper tang on his tongue. Neither bode well for what ever it is that awaits them. 

As soon as they reach the town square, there's no longer the need for guessing games. 

Dead bodies everywhere. 

Men and women, round up like cattle with their children, too many and too neat in formation to be mere coincidence. Carcasses, two, three, four of the cat-like predators SOLDIER had been called in for. 

Blood and gore squelch and croak under his boots as he steps closer. Genesis has been to war. He knows it's not pretty. But that is war. The front line. It's expected to be ugly business. 

This isn't. Or it shouldn't have been. 

_Pride is lost, wings stripped away, the end is nigh..._

Keeping his face decidedly blank, he can read exactly how this had gone. It had not been a battle of any kind, that much is clear. He can see what is left of the infantrymen, flesh torn apart by claws and teeth and blade. They'd tried to defend the townsfolk from both parties. They had failed equally on both fronts. 

It hadn't been a battle at all, Genesis acknowledges. It had been a slaughter. 

Cutter had done a marvelous job setting it up.

A flick of Genesis's wrist, an impatient, unvoiced order. For once he's not in the mood to speak and the men at his back immediately scatter, moving through the dead like ghosts hunting the living. More soldiers fall back, fanning out between neighborhood houses and farther still. Genesis doubts either group will have much luck in finding anything, terrorists or survivors. 

He silently sighs. He for one has a SOLDIER to fetch. 

"Sir, this one's alive," a voice suddenly calls out as Genesis hurries past, and even though he's not the one being addressed, his eyes inevitably follow. They come to rest on the bloody remains of an infantryman's uniform, the other soldier kneeling over the downed. Nothing special about it at all, except, perhaps, that there actually is a survivor to this madness, but. 

He knows that shock of spiky hair. 

Has seen it around quite often in the last few weeks. 

The people close by explode in a commotion of activity, too focused on their injured comrade to notice Genesis's steps falter for the fraction of a second. Genesis doesn't let himself look back as his legs carry him away, nor will he permit himself to listen to their urgent voices. 

Finding the man who had orchestrated the bloodbath isn't particularly difficult. In fact, he doesn't have to try at all. The man isn't hiding. Or if Cutter is, he isn't doing a very good job sitting cross legged in the middle of a clearing as he is, for all the world to see. 

A voice in the back of his head, one that sounds very much like Angeal, counsels him to be cautious, to pay attention. Cutter _had_ been waiting for them...

Genesis ignores it.

A flash of dancing light catches his curiosity. A small spring to the side of them, lined with white, smooth stone and pink flowers—a place too beautiful to bear witness to this encounter, certainly. Genesis almost regrets having to sully it, but then there aren't many a people left to mourn it.

"Commander Rhapsodos!" In spite of everything Cutter greets him like they are the oldest of friends meeting after a long absence, like they had known each other far better than they actually have. As a matter of fact, the redhead hadn't known the man's first name before today. "Of course it would be you they send. Where's the cavalry? Lost them in the woods?" 

Genesis bristles silently. The _nerve_! "Are you suggesting _I_ have need of them?"

"Nah. I'm saying they're wasting their time—and yours—if they're looking for survivors. They went for the hills as soon as they could, telling their story to anyone willing to listen, I would hope."

Genesis doesn't doubt it. Nothing he can do about that now. "No matter. Your act of treachery ends here."

Cutter snorts. "You think you wouldn't do the same in my shoes? Knowing what I know? Come off that high horse of yours, Rhapsodos. You're a smart cookie. They're all rotten to the core, sooner or later you'll figure out what I did, too. And when that day comes, _you_ Commander, will do much worse than I ever could."

Temper flares like Fire materia. Genesis grits his teeth. "Oh?"

"I almost wish I could be around to see that, ya know. Would almost be worth the trouble." The SOLDIER shrugs, chuckling lightly "Alas, we can't always get what we want, isn't that right Commander?"

Genesis would assume he was acting, too cavalier his attitude given the situation, but between the two of them, Genesis is the performer here. 

And Cutter isn't acting. 

For no reason that he can see, a sense of dread coils at the base of his skull, icy cold and desperate.

"Well? What are ya waiting for? Strike me down!"

"I would say I am sorry to disappoint, but." He is not.

It grabs the man's attention, words slapping the cockiness right off his face. "What?"

Genesis's turn to smirk. "I don't like to repeat myself, SOLDIER." He draws his rapier. "Pending further notice, you are under arrest."

The SOLDIER's sword strikes out of nowhere, fast and deadly at Genesis's chest. Distraction from the daggers that aim for his throat, the move Genesis only sees coming from the corner of his eyes. Surprisingly inventive, that, Genesis has to admit. Dirty. It's not enough. It'll _never be enough_ , no matter what Cutter will throw at him, it won't be enough. 

The nigh despairing look growing in his opponent's eyes reveals the man is aware of it, too, all too conscious he's being toyed with. _Tsk!_ Too bad, really, where is the fun in that? It's way more entertaining when they think they genuinely stand a chance, that they actually, truly stand a chance in defeating him. 

Genesis almost laughs. 

Almost.

The gun is a surprise. A weapon that gleams liquid light in the sunshine, silver sleek and ominous. And while completely irrelevant, a distant part of him still denotes that Cutter must have taken it from one of the fallen infantrymen. "Sorry Commander, but you have to understand, 'm not going back."

Cutter has never been apt at using materia. This one spell he's firing off, though, he's putting all he has behind it. It's not particularly powerful, nor is it precise or dangerous, not to him, but Genesis still has to act, deflect the magic away from him. A blink of an eye. It's enough to grant those one, two chances of free reign.

The shot rips the silence to pieces like wet paper.

Deafening it rings in Genesis's ears even as he curses, hand going for his materia.

The body drops at his feet with a dull thud, pieces of skull missing, splatters of what might have been parts of someone's brain spread over the formerly green, green grass. There's not enough mako in any of them to survive this, no skill in materia use high enough to repair this kind of damage. 

He should have seen it coming. 

He hadn't. 

"Coward."

"Sir?" One of the Thirds, accompanied by half a dozen troopers, in all likelihood summoned by the gunshot. 

_There are no dreams, no honor remains..._ Genesis sighs. "Bag the body." 

"Yes, Sir! What about... our orders, Sir?" 

Unimpressed, Genesis wipes the splatters of gore and blood off his boots, dyeing more grass a repulsive reddish brown. He sheaths his weapon. Black humor curls his lips into a grin. "We cannot always get what we want, SOLDIER."

Without a glance back, Genesis strides away. Enough time wasted.

"Report."

"No survivors sans the one we found. No sign of his group of accomplices either. Aside from the dead, the village is clean." He nods. No surprise there. "Sir, the trooper needs immediate medical attention I can't provide here on these--"

"We're done."

The sergeant doesn't manage to hide his surprise, but he does recover rather quickly. "Aye-aye, Commander!" He turns to the troops gathered by his charge. "Fix him up, we're a go."

Genesis barely manages to hold back a snort. What is there to fix him with? They hadn't exactly come prepared for this. In hindsight, it may just be another overlooked detail on ShinRa's part. 

"What about the dead, Sir?"

There won't be much left of them in a few minutes, he'd guess, but Genesis keeps his mouth shut to walk away. You don't advertise these kind of things, not even within the company. Specially not there. They get picked up in the glade beyond the picture perfect houses, no need to be cautious now that the villain is dead. Not when they have a badly injured soldier on their hands.

Standing tall, Genesis ignores the whirlwind of the arriving helicopters stealing the air from his lungs, choosing instead to focus on the sergeant and two of his peers loading a stretcher into the back of the bigger aircraft. He can't bring himself to take a step toward the smaller one. There's an itch in his chest, an invisible string pulling him in the opposite direction, one his feet follow without consulting his mind first. 

A confused voice over his in-ear. _"Commander?"_

He can't exactly blame the pilot. "Go."

_"Yes, Sir!"_

Under the baffled eyes of seated army grunts, Genesis finds a spot in the back and out of the way. A few meters in front of him someone puts an oxygen mask on the blond private, effectively covering half of his face. Someone else hooks him up to a handful of machines as yet another pair of hands cut away what is left of his ruined uniform. 

He can hear the beeping of the machines even over the racket of the rotor blades. 

He _hates_ it.

While Genesis is certainly no doctor, he's seen more than his fair share of battered bodies, soldiers and civilians alike. It teaches you a thing or two about injuries, about life and death, about who might make it and who might not. Lying there, horridly pale aside from the bright blood covering him like a shroud, Cloud Strife looks too much like a lost cause to him. 

There are claw marks down his entire side, many a mark so deep mako eyes catch white flashes under all the red. Burns covering skin here and there, puncture marks of teeth clearly visible at one arm and a leg. What hits him hardest is that absurd hair of his, strangely enough. 

It's wholly unreasonable to be bothered by such an inconsequential detail. He knows that, he does. And still, the blond hair dyed crimson by Cloud's own blood makes fear hook claws into his throat more than anything else. It shouldn't look like this. Cloud Strife shouldn't look like this, battered and bruised like a broken doll. 

How he is even still alive after sustaining such injuries is beyond him.

In the not so far distance, ShinRa's planes are razing the village to the ground, explosions picked up by SOLDIER enhanced ears loud and clear. 

Looking back down, Genesis finds his eyes are no longer just tracing the lines of Cloud Strife's unconscious face. There's another gaze locked onto his, a pair of foggy blue eyes looking back. Genesis near takes a step backwards. He can read too much in that gaze, pain and confusion, the reflections of the horrors they have witnessed. 

A curious flicker of movement distracts him from the very sight, a twitch of gray shadows, barely noticeable out of the corner of his eyes. He stares into the dark until shadows dissolve into a hand, fingers twitching and curling, grabbing at air. Confusion sparks and narrows his eyes. Until his mind makes sense of what that hand is trying to tell, to convey, that it is reaching for someone, and not just anyone. It's reaching for _Genesis_. 

It staggers him somewhat, the implication of such a gesture. 

People don't reach out to Genesis as a rule. It is true after all that he has never been approachable in any way, lest of all this. Why try and humiliate themselves?

But Cloud. Cloud _is_. In so much pain and scared out of his mind, and yet here he is, reaching out. Even before, Genesis realizes. Small, unimportant trivia that barely stands out in the grand scheme of his life, but in retrospect make no sense otherwise. 

A small smile gratuitously thrown his way. Soft words in passing that are neither necessary nor acknowledged. 

But now, like this, and Cloud Strife is still trying. Physically, desperately, with bloodied fingertips and pained eyes. Heart in his throat, Genesis's feet move before he recognizes their intent, fingers folding over smaller ones. There are things you can't ignore and still consider yourself a human being afterwards. 

Genesis can't dismiss those eyes. Eyes that don't stray from his like he's the only thing left making sense, the lifeline in a sea of pain and terror. 

Under the mask, parched, colorless lips part and move as if to speak. "It's quite all right, Private, don't try to talk." And Genesis should leave it at that. He can feel a few scattered stares on him still, yet he can't make himself take those prudent steps back. 

Tears trickle from the corners of blue eyes, wet trails on their way into bloodied hair. He promptly wipes them away, not wanting anyone to witness Strife's moment of weakness. He doesn't believe it is, not quite, but it is doubtful the blond would share his line of thought. Neither would most of the men on the helicopter, Genesis knows. 

But the tears could never make him weak. He is still breathing after all, heart still beating, no matter the hours that have past, the pain he is in. Holding on by the skin of his teeth, perhaps, but holding on none the less. 

That kind of strength, it is a beautiful thing to witness.

It's precisely why he stays, letting the private hold onto his hand.

When they finally reach Midgar, dusk has fallen over the city in a blanket of mist and diffused rainbow lights. Tonight he has no eye for its curious beauty, too distracted his heart is. Genesis's gaze is fixed on medical staff wheeling a stretcher away in a flurry of white coats, shouting orders over each other as they go. 

A part of his heart itches to follow. The same part which had kept him at the blond's side even after he'd again lost consciousness, succumbing to natural fatigue and pain and later, when he'd had gotten worse, Genesis's Sleep spell. Letting go now is difficult, and he doesn't dare ask himself why. The blond is nothing to him. Should be nothing, yet his heart is heavy at the thought of never seeing him again. 

Genesis forces his fists to uncurl and his lungs to draw air. Forces his feet onto a different path. He has a job to finish.

  


* * *

  


Later, much later, when he's given his report to Sephiroth and the Director, and then again, to the President's lackeys and their PR monkeys, he's finally back in his apartment, finally able to sit and unwind. It's not working very well for him. 

Lounging on his sofa with LOVELESS in front of him, he doesn't comprehend any of the lines. Doesn't find peace in their familiarity. 

Gibberish. That's all they are right now, just words strung together, no meaning, no nothing. He could be reading the phone directory for all good it's doing him, perhaps one of his men's lackluster reports. It's disconcerting. 

There's a thought in the back of his mind that won't leave him alone. Hasn't for hours. A question still itching under his skin. A sorrow he can't quite shake. The clock on the mantle mocks him for it, ticking away the seconds, minutes, hours. 

It's an old fashioned, dainty little thing that Angeal had gifted him years ago. White faced and made of tinged brass, always ticking too loudly for him to think. He treasures it anyway, perhaps for his own flawed, melancholic reasons. At present, though, its delicate hands only taunt him as they advance, _tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock._

He closes the book in a huff and gets up. He is being ridiculous. Snatching his coat on the way out, he stalks down the corridor to where the elevators are located. 

Finding Cloud Strife should not be a difficult task. Not for him, not in the mood he is in. 

The young nurse he stops on the way in is indeed very happy to point him to the private's room—more likely happy at the prospect of being rid of him than being helpful, but that hardly matters. The trooper, he is informed, is still unconscious, barely out of surgery, stable, as well as can be expected all things considered. 

Genesis ignores most of the nurse's inane prattle, but one thing stands out, one that truly matters: Cloud Strife will live to see another day. Fight another day, another mission. Another death threat. Genesis laughs, heedlessly amused at his own morbid thinking. 

Upon entering the sickroom, the first thing that strikes him is how much dimmer it is in here than out in the hallway, how much quieter. No matter, Genesis can clearly make out the shape of a human body under too thin sheets, can hear his breathing. What's not wrapped in gauze is clean, pale skin against white cloth, gone is all the red, even the hair is back to blond spikes instead of ghastly crimson. 

Cloud appears even smaller like this, though, with his eyes closed and hooked up to lit machines. 

Genesis takes a seat in the far back corner of the room, forcing himself to take a deep breath and let it out slowly. Out of habit he fetches LOVELESS from his pocket. It's still just words on paper, barely registering in his mind as his eyes scan the page. The worry lodged in his throat is not so terrible now, though, not so painful either. Easier to ignore. It's a fortunate thing the room is not otherwise occupied. 

Perhaps if he stays for a bit, listening to Cloud's heartbeat, it'll be all right. 

It will be enough.

  


* * *

  


It's with the turn of one page to the next that Genesis's ears first catch it, the quick slap of SOLDIER boots running on cold linoleum covered floors, unmistakably in their gait. He'd been expecting to hear it for a while now, sure that someone would let the dark-haired Second know what had befallen his friend even if Genesis hadn't. 

Therefore, when Zack Fair barges into the room, Genesis isn't surprised. It doesn't matter what time it is nor what else might be going on, the puppy will always come for his friends. 

The moment Fair's eyes fall upon Cloud's still form, he freezes. 

Human turned beauteous stature in the blink of an eye, frozen in time suchlike its marble counterparts on LOVELESS Avenue, lining theater entryways and plazas one after another after another. Fair's eyes are wide but his voice is hushed, no more than a sigh on the stuffy, reprocessed infirmary air—so very different from his usual self. 

"Shit Cloud..." Fear, Genesis recognizes sharply, fear will do that to you. 

Genesis doesn't move, doesn't say a word until Zack Fair eventually takes stock of his surroundings, realizing he is in fact not the only visitor present in the shadowy room. "Genesis?"

" _Gracious_ of you to notice."

"I'm sorry! I didn't--"

Genesis waves the apology away with a careless flick of his hand, shaking unspoken words from his fingertips. He's aware he's acting unfairly. "By all means, spare us both."

Fair looks at him more closely then, perhaps tipped off by something in his tone, eyes narrowing at whatever it is that he finds in his face. Genesis doesn't want to know, wishes he could just turn his head away. "Are you okay?"

"Do I look 'okay' to you?"

"Well—"

" _Do_ think how you are going to finish that sentence, Zack the puppy," he interrupts icily, eyes flashing. 

Fair throws up his hands. "Sorry, sorry, I just.... Kunsel said--" He chances a look at his unconscious friend, shrugging helplessly. Genesis sighs. "I—Is he--?"

Genesis breathes out. "He will be fine, in due time."

The manner in which the SOLDIER's face goes slack with sudden sharp relief, tension leaving his body, eyes closing for a prolonged moment—Genesis recognizes that reaction within himself. Shares the sentiment well aware he has no logical reason to. 

Some things are beyond logic, though. Genesis is rather aware of that, too.

"Uh, do you mind if I stay for a bit?"

"Hardly. He is your friend, not mine." 

"I mean, yeah, but you just got back and I don't want to annoy you, ya know?"

"Since when do you care about annoying me?" Satisfied at the sheepish look his remark incurs, Genesis diverts his attention back to the book in his lap. _The wind sails over the water's surface, quietly, but surely..._

This moment feels... almost nice. Soothing. And something painful uncoils in response to it, at the normalcy. No matter how well-read he prides himself to be, no matter how sophisticated, Genesis will not ever be capable of expressing how much he appreciates Zack Fair's existence at this very moment. 

Not that he would voice such gratitude even if he were. Anything that matters, that could matter. To someone, somewhere. Anything that can be made use of against him. 

Genesis isn't build that way, to hand over portions of himself—no matter how insignificant and minor those parts may be. Looking at Cloud Strife and at what his heart is trying to tell him in regard to the blond, a part of him has come to fiercely regret that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be gone for work for most of January, so no clue when the next part will be up. I'll try to work something out, though. Much love to all of you and may 2016 be a good year for us all!


	4. Sound of Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of Looks and Conversations...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The following chapter was brought to you by spotty airport wifi and strange laptop mayhem! But here it is, so, thanks spotty wifi, I guess. ;)

[...] but not a single human being can be taught to feel. Why? Because whenever you think or you believe or you know,  
you're a lot of other people: but the moment you feel, you're nobody-but-yourself.  
― E.E. Cummings

  
  


Genesis keeps going back to the infirmary, knowing it's a terrible idea. 

His heart isn't as heavy in proximity to Cloud Strife, the hum under his skin not so loud. It is enough of a reason to return, solace. More than his own bed has to offer these days anyhow, with nightmare infested slumber or hours spent reading in the darkness in the crisp nighttime air. 

It's not so cold when he's near the blond, though. Not so lonely either. 

He knows what that means. 

Genesis wasn't born yesterday. He may not wish to, but he knows. Has known for a while where it would lead if... 

Genesis lowers his eyes. A book on his lap now too, open, and he hasn't turned a page in over half an hour. Hasn't even looked at it as the timepiece at his back keeps reminding him, impatiently ticking the time away. He isn't reading. There's too much weighing on his mind, too many questions whirring round his head, unanswered. 

Behind him, the doors open.

Genesis inwardly smirks. He may finally acquire some insight after all. 

The pause in movement as his presence is discovered, it is virtually non-existent, a detail so subtle that none other than he or Angeal would likely detect it. The person continues unhurried and even, certain, near silent footsteps passing him and rounding the metal desk to take a seat. Genesis waits, eyes firmly on the written text. 

And waits. 

He will not be the one to speak first. Not tonight. Not after having been ignored for two days, the two days which have passed since Sephiroth's return from yet another mission. Successful, of course. Or so he had heard. Thus far, Genesis had seen neither hide nor hair of ShinRa's precious General. Petty, perhaps, but so what. Wutai and Angeal have been preying on his mind for a lot longer, Sephiroth will just have to deal with it.

He turns a page.

"Your eyes do not move, you are not actually reading."

Good for him to notice. Genesis keeps his head down, counting the seconds silently before moving on to the next page. Another minute passes. Another whisper of paper. 

"Genesis."

A touch of annoyance in that cool voice. Serves him right! Let him have a taste of his own medicine, let him be the one unheeded for a change! People tend to think of Genesis as impatient and while vain, Genesis is not so blind to his own flaws to disagree with them. If it is to make a point, however, all bets are off.

Another minute passes between them, a minute in which Sephiroth stares holes into his head and Genesis moves on to yet another page. A poor attempt of getting the redhead to acknowledge him. _Tsk. You should know better!_ Genesis perfected that years ago, this is nothing. True, it is Sephiroth, but he is himself, too, and that brings it to a whole different level.

"What do you want."

Victory, oh sweet victory! Genesis resists the impulse to grin. Looking up, he makes sure a mask of startled surprise is firmly in place. As if he had only just now become aware of Sephiroth's vigilant presence. "Oh. Did you say something?"

"Genesis!"

The book closes with a sharp snap. Game over. 

"Something's wrong. He's been there for too long, everything is too silent. Too pleasant. They should have send me weeks ago, months, fresh meat."

Thankfully Sephiroth doesn't pretend not to know what he's talking about.

"Yes."

"Why is it that, when I inquired about your whereabouts, I am told you are unavailable. To me! Surely that is no way to treat a SOLDIER First Class, least of all _me_."

"There were--"

Genesis snorts, dismissing unsaid words with a flick of a wrist. He did not come here to hear more excuses! "When I inquire about the date of Angeal's return, it is all empty platitudes, good-for-nothing pretext like I don't recognize it for what it is! Even Angeal's puppy is starting to get irritated, do you have even the slightest notion of what I had to endure? I have been put off so many times, I've lost count! Why is it, Sephiroth, that my--"

Sephiroth cuts him off. "Genesis." 

Genesis hates being interrupted and his eyes flash dangerously to reflect that. There's a curious undertone in Sephiroth's voice, though. It has him pause, containing the scalding words burning on the tip of his tongue, abruptly wary. 

"I'm going to Wutai."

And that. _That_ Genesis hadn't expected. 

_I'm going to Wutai._

He knows his mouth must be hanging open. He can't help it. Battle sharpened instincts shrill. _Wrong._ This is wrong. This shouldn't happen. Wasn't supposed to happen!

" _What_?" 

It was supposed to be his mission. His! It was always supposed to be his. His next chance at glory, to catch up with Angeal before he returned to Midgar. And now. Nothing! Sephiroth remains soundless. That silence, it fuels Genesis anger better than words ever could. Sephiroth's condescending calm, more than anything, has that effect on him, always and without fail!

"What is that supposed to mean? You are going! _You_ are going? They told me I would be going, as soon as Angeal was done. I wanted—It was supposed to be me! Why are they sending you?"

"They don't plan for Angeal to return yet."

Genesis blinks. The alarms in his head shrill louder, striking pain behind his eyes. "He....is staying _longer_? Why am I only hearing about this now?"

"You are not authorized to know at all."

That's—he is—the audacity! He doesn't have words! For this.....this thing! And he always has words! For everything. A lot of them. Complete books of them. All the time. He doesn't now, abandoned by one of his most favored things.

"Why? You look me in the eye and you tell me why, Sephiroth, or the Goddess help me, I will _burn down this place_."

He means it too. In this very moment, he does.

Sephiroth doesn't tell him why.

Keeps his silence, doesn't say a single goddamned word. How dare he keep this from him? How dare he leave him in the dark when they both know there's something amiss there. In Wutai, something that is not right, not what they are lead to believe. When their friend is out there, alone, in the middle of a war he's been trying to win for far too long.

White heat sparks behind his eyes, a red-hot spike driven into his skull. How dare he not tell him! _Him_! Sephiroth keeps staring despite his ire, eyes imploring, nigh beseeching, cool meeting the fire of his own, and—Genesis eventually looks back, really looks, through the haze of red anger and betrayal and bitterness. And what he finds, what he can read there--"You don't know, they didn't tell you why..." 

Vindictively happy. That's how he feels. For an instant it strikes him, deliriously radiant like the midday sun, makes him feel like cackling, laughing in their treasured General's face, triumphant. Poor Sephiroth, their favorite pet and _still_ no more of an inkling what is going on than Genesis! Only for a moment though, a gleeful, mad second between one blink and the next. Only until he recalls what this is about. 

Guilt blinks into existence at once, extinguishing part of his wrath. _Angeal, what have you gotten yourself into?_ A cold shadow blankets his heart. If ShinRa keeps Sephiroth in the dark, if Sephiroth truly doesn't know why he's suddenly ordered to Wutai himself, what does it imply for the ordinary rest of them? What does it mean for Angeal? 

Fingertips numb like he's been hit by Ice. _"You think you wouldn't do the same thing? Knowing what I know?"_ A memory. No more than a flash of colors and gone, phantom lights and scents, the echo of a gunshot. He flinches. 

His head hurts. 

"Genesis--"

Genesis snubs him. "When are you leaving." His voice sounds... wrong to him. Croaky, paper dry and unsteady, and cool eyes narrow at his. There's a pressure building behind his temples he refuses to acknowledge. He's SOLDIER First Class, not a mere civilian!

"Tomorrow."

"For how long, do you know?"

More silence. Genesis hates silence. 

"Will you tell me if he--"

"Yes."

They stare each other, two sets of mako eyes, the same and yet so different from each other, coming to an understanding. " _The wandering soul knows no rest._ Very well. I suppose I can be content with that, then. Or no, I cannot, but that is hardly going to change a thing."

"Genesis—"

He raises a hand, palm facing the other SOLDIER. Sephiroth thankfully takes the hint to fall silent. In his chest, his heart races, his fingertips no longer feel like they belong to him. He needs to get away. "Spare me. We both know how this will end." With a sigh, he stands. To almost sit again, vertigo spinning the world about like a Ferris wheel, colored streaks passing him by like kaleidoscope dreams. 

He never sees Sephiroth move. He must have, though, because the General is right in front of him when reality returns to Genesis's senses, looking perhaps even more baffled at the stumble than Genesis himself. "Are you--"

"Don't you dare finish that sentence, Sephiroth. Do not dare."

Silence. "We should spar again some time."

Well. That is....certainly better. Genesis smirks over the feeling of acid churning in his blood, tiny bubbles bursting under his skin. "Naturally. I do not suppose your schedule allows for such things prior to your departure?"

Sephiroth sighs. It's scarcely perceptible, only years of dealing with the man let Genesis catch it.

"It does not."

"When you and Angeal return, then. We may scare the Seconds again."

A twitch of lips. "Gladly."

No matter their difficulties, their distinctions, they do understand each other. To a degree. A very small degree, alas, but it is there. Most of the time. 

Nodding his farewell, Genesis whirls on the heel of one boot, red leather dancing about his legs as he aims for the exit. 

He pauses on the threshold, hesitating in the moment between staying and going. _When you and Angeal return._ There's so much that... worries him, so much he thinks they are not told, he can't quite help to think that when it comes out, it will be an avalanche that sweeps them away. Leaves nothing behind but rubble and dust. 

For weeks now, months, there's a deep drone in the back of his head that feels like he's standing right next to one of ShinRa's high voltage generators. That hum, it sank into him, deep under his skin into blood and flesh, settling there like a disease. He can't shake it, can't get rid of it, no matter what he does, it is there even in his sleep. Sometimes, in his darkest of hours he does not dare acknowledge, he itches to take a knife and cut it out.

Something is wrong, he doesn't need a scientist to tell him that. 

Genesis can feel it in his bones. 

Yet it's not just him. There's something terrible looming over all of their heads, the three of them, Angeal, Sephiroth and he. Something just outside his reach, waiting to be dropped like a bomb, out of nowhere, out of blue skies and sunshine, and when it does, eventually, he....fears nothing will ever be the same again. 

That hum in the back of his head, the delirious fire in his mind hunting every silence, it has him petrified, on edge. Afraid of what it signifies. And Genesis hates it. Hates being afraid, powerless, useless, sitting around doing nothing but shuffling stacks of papers and manila folders back and forth, waiting. 

Waiting. Always waiting.

"Don't you dare come back without him."

It's all he says. Can't say more.

He doesn't wait for a response either, simply lets the door slide shut behind him. 

  


* * *

  
Standing stock still waiting for the elevator, Genesis gives in and rubs at his forehead. Goddess, but it hurts, he should head home. Eat. Go to bed. He should. He's tired, unreasonably so. Fatigued, arms and legs too heavy for any SOLDIER, lest of all him. His neck feels like it no longer wants to prop up his head. 

Genesis knows the feeling.

A numb finger selects the button that takes the elevator down to the infirmary. 

Down there, people know not to mention it if they do come across him, not if they value their continued existence. And most of them must, no matter how pathetic that existence may be. 

Cloud Strife has made remarkable progress on his way to recovery, looking less and less like a corpse and more like a person again.

There's still an ill parlor to his cheeks, will remain there for a some time, Genesis supposes. Cloud isn't mako enhanced. He neglects to remember that rather often. Sitting in his accustomed spot, he sprawls his legs out in front of him, settling back into the chair's welcoming embrace and finally, finally lets his eyes close. 

He pinches the bridge of his nose. Gaia, but his head _hurts_. And it wont stop! He can barely recall a time when it had been like this, not without sustaining major injuries beforehand. Not with nausea threatening when he so much as moves his eyeballs. 

Forcing himself to straighten, Genesis's hand retrieves a well-known book from his coat. Fumbling fingers open it... somewhere. The lines of ink blur his vision, bile like acid at the back of his throat. He forces himself through that too, the sickening vertigo, reminding himself he's had worse. So much worse this is nonsensical in comparison, surely. Swallowing hard, once, twice, three times. 

He looks back down. 

Words are words again, neat black print on off white paper and no longer obscure, washed out squiggles. Sighing, he chalks that up as a victory, small as it may be. Carefully not to disturb sleeping beauty, Genesis sets the book on the mattress, moving the chair around so he can prop himself up on it as well. He'll only stay a moment, he appeases himself, just a moment. Then he'll go back to his apartment, to bed. Just a while. A little... longer....  


* * *

  
He falls asleep there.

Genesis doesn't know how it happens, nor when it happens, only knows that it happens for the simple reason that he wakes with crisp hospital sheets under his head and a hand stroking his hair. Timid, shaky fingers combing red strands this way and that, careful and light not to wake, like they are not sure of their welcome. 

It feels nice, blissfully nice.

For a second he wonders if he's still asleep, dreaming, but then he hadn't had pleasant dreams like this in a long while. Peaceful ones that don't end in blood and agony, a world on fire. 

He doesn't think he's ever dreamed of someone stroking his hair anyhow. 

Genesis's eyes flutter open reluctantly, almost like his subconsciousness is as hesitant to let the illusion go, the peace that comes with it. Blinking the blurry world into focus, he meets a pair of blue eyes looking back at him. The eyes, they are so bright that for a sleepy-eyed second Genesis thinks it's mako. It's not. Just the way the night light hits them, pretty and riveting. 

They stare at each other, frozen, transfixed, time passing like honey dripping from a spoon, and Genesis finds he can't breathe. There's too much showing in those eyes again, so much emotion, so many words, things he's afraid of naming.

Things the heart in his chest recognizes. The heart that is abruptly beating too fast.

Surreal. Like a dream, that is what it feels like, the perfect dream, right before startling awake.

Cloud's face at this moment, this tiny space between one heartbeat and the next... it's all there. For all the world to see. So beautiful, so open. And everything he can read there, every little thing, it's all for him. "Oh." It's less than a whisper, the sound that escapes him, barely stirring the air. Almost nothing, yet it's everything. 

Shatters the status quo, like the pinprick bursting the soap bubble, sudden and final.

Cloud must realize at the same time, what Genesis has seen, _that_ he has seen, what Cloud's let slip in that one unguarded moment he's perhaps allowed himself. He turns his head, taking half of Genesis's heart with him as he tears his hand away like he's been burned. Getting burned for doing something wrong, something that displeases Genesis, it would surprise exactly no one. 

But no. No. "Don't." Too sharp, he knows. Too cutting. Too him. 

The blond curls further away, rolling over onto his side with the curved line of his back facing Genesis, hiding. The side that's still too raw to take this much pressure without hurting. 

There's the pull inside of him, the leftover piece of his heart that demands he get closer, to be there. To sooth, to help. The same pull makes him get up and perch on the side of the bed. "Don't do that. You're hurting yourself." Curled up like Cloud is, Genesis is hesitant to touch him at all, to even look at him too closely. 

He extends a hand anyway, careful and slow like a skill yet unpracticed, the loose curl of fingers along an elbow, no more. All it does is make Cloud Strife flinch. Genesis doesn't draw back like he should. Perhaps it is unfair of him to push like this, unkind with who he is, but he can't help himself. He can't let it go. It's too—That look on Cloud's face, before he realized—that thing in his eyes, he wants it. Longs for it. 

Longs to wrap himself in it like his most favorite coat. Selfish, yes, but. He _wants_. He wishes he could--

"I'm sorry." 

Cloud's voice as it interrupts his tumbling thoughts, it sounds as raw as his injuries must still be. Defeated.

Genesis can guess for what. He asks anyway. "What for?" 

If possible, the blond curls into an even tighter ball, waves of misery so clearly coming off him that Genesis feels guilt sparking at that beautiful face scrunching up in a painful grimace. He should let it go, let him go, get up and leave. Would be the right thing to do, the honorable thing to do, considering he shouldn't have let himself get this involved in the first place. Should not even consider what he's doing.

"I hear what people say. About you. About things that... you don't like, I—don't hurt me. Please." 

Can he blame the blond for reacting this way? He _has_ a reputation and for a reason. He likes it that way. Loves it, in fact, like his favorite brand of coffee, craves it like a good battle, a worthwhile conversation—but here, now. It's a curse more than anything. So no, Genesis reckons, he can't blame Cloud, not without blaming himself first. 

"I'm—I'm not, just... Turn around and look at me." 

He doesn't. Of course he doesn't. In his shoes, Genesis might not either. He lets his actions speak for once, hoping, wishing, mirroring the blond's touch from just moments before. Strange how soothing it is to feel something as plain as hair slide between his fingers and under his palm, ticklish and so, so soft, the color of liquid gold spilling over his skin. 

The way Cloud seems to unconsciously lean into his touch.

He stares at his own hand, mesmerized. 

Could Cloud have felt the same, touching him like this? 

A minute passes. Two. Five. 

"You held my hand."

Genesis permits himself and Cloud the courtesy of not playing ignorant. "...I did."

He can hear the blond's heartbeat in the silence that follows, too fast, too loud. Like his own. 

"Turn around, Cloud."

He barely recognizes the voice. Soft and kind, like it cares. That's not him. Can't be him! He isn't—he never—he doesn't do these things! _Goddess!_ What _is_ he doing? He can't—It gets a reaction, though, a twitch of uncertain movement. A body uncurling just enough to meet Genesis's gaze over a shoulder. Genesis looks back, letting his eyes mirror just a fraction of his own emotional turmoil in a way he never does. 

For good reason. It's an atrocious, alarming feeling, being this open, this vulnerable. 

Letting someone else see. He despises it!

It's entirely worth it. The look on Cloud Strife's face, when he realizes—wonder, disbelief, surprise, the way his eyes go wider still, brighter; it burns itself into Genesis's mind and heart. 

It could perhaps amount to the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

"I—"

Genesis takes his hand, cradling it between both of his. 

"I didn't meant to."

"Do we ever? In matters of the heart, do we ever mean to?" Words like broken glass on his tongue. They hurt. He shouldn't voice them, shouldn't--

"I—I don't know." 

So honest, so brave. So different from him. In this, he is the coward; he may not like the truth but he knows it is. Genesis smiles down at him. Not smirks, not grins. Smiles. It's been too long since he had reason to. 

"That's quite all right." 

"Sir—"

Genesis stops him with a finger on his lips. They're still somewhat cracked and sleep dry as he sweeps them with the pad of his thumb, watching amused as they turn white under the lightest of pressures. Cloud Strife's cheeks, in turn, turn a healthy shade of rosy. Taking pity on him, he takes his hand back.

"I do have a name, Cloud Strife."

"That's not—I couldn't--"

He disapprovingly tugs on the blond's limb slack in his grasp. "It is. You can. I am telling you to after all, am I not?"

"Yes but--"

Genesis snorts, amazed and irritated all at once at the display of mulishness. "Blondie, no buts" 

"I—"

Genesis swipes a finger down burning cheeks. "I have a name. Between us, go ahead and use it."

"I don't understand what you'd want with me..."

A 180 degree turn in conversation, hitting solid ground at absolute velocity—the blond's subdued voice leaves Genesis unsettled at a moment's notice. Genesis's smile falters, heart twisting rueful beneath his rips. _See? See? That is what you get for this foolish--_ The redhead dismisses the words at the back of his head, a scathing monologue of battered pride. "Cloud--"

"You are so—you could have anyone, please, please don't tease me."

Genesis doesn't say anything. Words are his gift, his weapon if he so chooses. 

Words may not be enough now, may not be appropriate here. He brings Cloud's hand up to his chest instead. Actions at times do speak louder than words after all, and his heart has been speaking loudest of them all ever since he woke. They are the same in that, Genesis can hear Cloud's heart making itself known just as frantic. 

" _Can't you feel my heartbeats, giving me away, I can feel your heartbeats, giving you away._ *"

He feels like a voyeur, sitting, watching, reading eyes like poetry. Emotions, half formed thoughts, things never to be be voiced, never meant to reach anyone's ears, lest of all his. He is a lot harder to read, too many masks, too many blanks, too many layers, eyes fiery cold. It is true, though, our hearts do give us away at one point, in love and war, bold and ruthless, blood red. Human.

The hand in his trembles, lips parting ever so slightly. "Oh..."

Genesis brings the hand to his mouth, brushes lips along grazed knuckles. "I thought you would not live," he confesses, whisper soft and uncertain and so unlike his reputation, ignoring the voice shrieking outrage in his head, "but I wanted you to. Some part of me needed you to." 

"Oh." Eyes blink quickly and Genesis pretends he does not recognize the sheen of wet, shining bright blue and bluer still. "When I—I thought you were a dream, at first. But it—everything hurt so much..." And dreams, the good ones, are not supposed to hurt. 

His heart aches at the reminder flashing before his eyes, choking, and Genesis can't fight the string reeling him in. He doesn't even try as he leans down, pressing lips to the blond's forehead. He lingers there for the longest of moments with his eyes closed, letting the blond compose himself away from prying eyes. When he straightens, Cloud struggles to follow.

Genesis looks on, worried and confused, watches him shift and wince and hiss until he's sitting upright, skin once more white as a sheet. His hand, the one still partly wrapped in gauze, hangs in the air between them for two, three, eleven heartbeats until it makes up its mind and settles on Genesis's shoulder. A soft weight, light and wonderful. Unknown but perfect.

A different weight comes to rest on his other shoulder, heavier, hair tickling the side of Genesis's face. His breath catches. It is as if his body moves on default in responds to the other, his own hand sliding up to the base of Cloud's skull, face tugged into his neck. Cloud's other arm comes around him more slowly, squeezing as hard as he can once it becomes clear Genesis doesn't plan to move away. 

They stay like that until Genesis can no longer ignore the blond's labored breath, the tiny gasps of pain as muscles tremble in extortion. "You should not hurt yourself like this, Cloud Strife, not for this."

"It's not--"

"Liar."

Silence. "It's not th—that bad, really, it's—I can--"

 _Tsk!_ Genesis rolls his eyes. "Go ahead, lay back down," he urges, untangling the blond from around him. Cloud goes without another word, blinking, letting Genesis's hands guide him back into the bedding. There are lines around his eyes, lips tight, blatant signs of pain that belie his protests. They annoy and worry him to the same extent. 

Genesis smooths out Cloud's forehead, running a gentle finger over furrowed brows. "Do not do that again."

"I just w—wanted--"

"Hm?"

"Nothing, n—nothing. It's stupid, forget it."

Fingertips tilt Cloud's chin up. "Tell me."

"Just—I wanted—it's—being close to you... like that..."

"That is _hardly_ stupid, Cloud Strife."

"No?"

Genesis softens. It's impossible not to. "No, here." He carefully angles his body so he's lying sideways on the bed, balancing right on the edge of the mattress. It isn't a comfortable position to be in, but more important, Cloud Strife is barely a hairsbreadth away without having to inflict pain and misery upon himself. 

Close like this, he can feel the blond's own body heat, the flush that crawls up a pale neck. "Close enough?" he inquires with a knowing smirk. 

"I—yeah, yeah..."

Genesis's lips brush his neck, dragging from the curve of his shoulder to his ear. "Or maybe this?" Seek out the corner of his eyes, the tip of his nose. "Or perhaps this?" He bobs their noses together, delighted when Cloud wrinkles his in turn. "No, I think this," fingertips combing sleep ruffled hair off temples and forehead, tugging gently at the spiky strands.

"Genesis!" A hand bats his touch away, affronted even as he smiles.

Genesis stills, sobering. "Say it again..."

A breathless pause. "Genesis..." Sober now as well, Cloud, realizing what he'd said most likely, and saying it again still. And Genesis watches him pronounce it this time, watches lips form his name, completely enamored. 

" _She guides us to bliss, her gift everlasting..._ Yes, I believe this shall be best..."

Genesis brings their mouths together, gentle pressure that's not really anything but dry affection that stays and waits like a friendly dog. Waits for a sign, permission, until Cloud makes a noise at the back of his throat. It beckons closer, further, the sound, the look in his eyes from up close. Genesis hums softly when he leans in again, tiny little pecks for each lip, one, two, half a dozen, the corners of his mouth, cracked and raw. 

Cloud's skin is warm as he slips a hand under his neck, fingertips sliding into fine hair. It becomes more of a real kiss after that, his lower lip nestled between Cloud's, exploring tentatively as Cloud's mouth parts more when his does and less when it doesn't, the minor tilt of a head that sets a better angle. 

A first kiss reclined in a hospital bed, tasting sleep and faint remains of peppermint toothpaste on pink lips. It's quite innocent compared to much of his history. Quite delightful, too, the kind that, to him, usually is vintage red wine and a good book, a mastered materia. Somewhere in the far corner of his mind, his pride curls up around itself at the thought, licking its injured flanks. Genesis doesn't dare pay it attention, lest its claws will sink into him and ruin it.

When they part, Cloud's eyes are shining. "Will you be here when I wake up?" A harmless inquiry, quiet and dreamlike, like he's half asleep already, lost to Morpheus seductive lure.

Looking at him, he wants to say yes, wants to promise, he longs to do so just to see him smile, but he doesn't like making promises he knows he won't be able to keep either. " _The wandering soul knows no rest..._ I wish I could. I can promise that I will return tomorrow night to see you if you'd like."

"Yeah?"

"As you wish, then. Tomorrow."

There is that smile again. Genesis brushes the edges with a kiss, resting his forehead against a warm temple. He should do it more often, it suits him. "Go to sleep. I shall see you on the morrow..."

"You don't have to stay if you don't--"

His laughter ruffles the blond hair, strands getting caught between his lips. "Of course I don't. Don't worry your pretty head about it," he murmurs, "just sleep. Sleep." 

Right now he is exactly where he needs to be.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *) Quoting lines from _Heartbeats_ by Amy Diamond:
> 
> [...]  
> Tell me am I mistaken  
> Cause I don't have another heart for breakin'  
> Please don't let me go  
> I just wanna stay  
> Can't you feel my heartbeats  
> Giving me away
> 
> I just want to know  
> If you too feel afraid  
> I can feel your heartbeats  
> Giving you away  
> Giving us away  
> [...]


	5. If you Could Read my Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of late night memories and early morning mysteries....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, I had to up the rating. My writing got a little away from me re: upcoming installments, and I really don't want to go back and do content editing, so here we are. Second, I wanna thank you all for your kudos and comments and all that stuff. It's always refreshing to know people are reading - and possibly even enjoying - what you write...

“But you can't get away from yourself. You can't decide not to see yourself anymore. You can't decide to turn off the noise in your head.”   
― Jay Asher, Thirteen Reasons Why 

  
  


It's long past midnight when he makes his way down to the infirmary.

To Cloud. 

He doesn't bother to rationalize that any longer. Hasn't for some time, not since that one fateful night he'd fallen asleep there. 

It's not a place he's visiting after all and it's become too strenuous to pretend otherwise. He's bleeding strength instead of blood these days, so much so, that there's hardly anything left to spare, sometimes even within the fixed parameters of ShinRa's training simulations. It's not merely a physical strength that he is lacking, it is mental, too. An alarming thought, that, one Genesis doesn't like to dwell on.

The hallways are deserted when the elevator reaches its destination, a lone nurse at the nurse station flipping through a magazine and the scrape of a pen as a yawning doctor scribbles something or other on a chart down the other way. The infirmary at night is quiet and still. Calm. It suits him perfectly. 

He knows the twists and turns that will lead him to Cloud's whereabouts by heart. It's a three bed room the blond resides in; that Cloud is the sole patient to occupy it, well. Fortunate coincidence, of course. A smirking Genesis pushes the door open—and stills. Where there should be a sleepy eyed trooper curled up under his blankets, there's nothing but an empty bed bidding him welcome tonight, its sheets messily tossed aside and kicked to the foot of the mattress. 

He finds the missing blond within the blink of an eye, wide awake and on his feet, pacing the length of the windowless wall with a focused, almost predatory expression on his face. 

"Are you certain this is wise, Cloud Strife?"

The blond rounds on him like a snake, hissing. "Don't start! Zack already lectured me on that! Don't take it too far, Cloud, you're only going to make it worse, Cloud, please be careful, Cloud! I'd hit him if I thought it would do any good, but I think he'd just frown all worried and tell me I shouldn't go around hurting myself!"

A disgruntled Cloud Strife would be the most precious thing, Genesis figures, if it weren't for the pinched lines of pain lurking around his eyes. He can envision it all too well, though, the Second Class fussing over his injured friend relentlessly, sad and distressed like a puppy waiting on its hurt master. "The puppy can be a bit overbearing at times, I concur, but do remember that he only has your well-being at heart." And after a moment's indecision, adds, "as do I."

"I know, all right? I know! That's nice, thank you, really, but it's just so frustrating to just lie here and--" A gasp steals his voice away, legs stumbling and crashing him into the wall. Only a hostile glare keeps Genesis away from him. 

"….I am sure it must be difficult."

"No! You have no idea! How could you? I hate this! I'm not a toddler, I have both my arms, both my legs, I should be able to go to the bathroom alone, take a shitty shower without being worn out and having someone come and help me back to—I _hate_ it!" He's almost shouting at the end, a wild look in his eyes. 

And Genesis would touch him, hold him, kiss him, anything, but everything about the blond screams 'Do Not Touch' so Genesis doesn't. Stands back and waits for the worst of the storm to pass. Watches silently even as Cloud pushes himself off the wall and, contrary to all reason, continues to set one foot in front of the other. 

"How am I supposed to prove to anyone that I'm—that I'm capable of doing anything but fall over my own feet! How am I ever to get into—how am I going to be—it's all complete shit!" Fingers dig into his side where one arm is curled around himself. "Might as well pack my bags and go home. Except I can't do that either because I already--" He cuts himself off with a shuddery sigh, wobbling on with fingertips trailing his flimsy progress across the wall.

"There is nothing to prove, Cloud Strife. You need to give your body time to heal, that's only natural. It was no mere trifle, your injuries..."

"I have to try!"

"Perhaps, but overdoing it will only serve to protract your recovery."

"Get out! I don't need you to lecture me, too!" 

It's the pain speaking, Genesis is aware. Part of him demands he do that anyhow, turn on his heel and walk away, never to look back. It strikes that well-known fire within him, revealing the dark and ugly corners of his very self. 

He doesn't leave. "Blondie—"

Accusation in the shape of a pointing finger. "You don't know what it's like! You don't even--" 

His legs give out under him, just like that, but Genesis catches him before Cloud can collapse to the floor anyway, pulling him up and against his chest. He keeps him there for the longest minutes, until the trembling in Cloud's body subsides and he's no longer shaking with so much emotion. 

"I—I'm sorry. I shouldn't—this isn't your fault, I--" Cloud's voice is muffled against the leather of Genesis's coat, utterly exhausted. His body slouches in Genesis's arms.

"Hush, Cloud Strife, you have nothing to apologies for." _He does! He does! Show him--_

"I just want to be back to normal, you know?"

"And you will. With time."

"It sucks!"

"It does," he agrees, waiting exactly three heartbeats before pressing on. "Will you lie back down now?"

"Will you stay?"

"Of course."

"Okay..."

Genesis scoops him into his arms before the blond knows to protest, carrying him the three, four, five steps to the bed. "Are you able to stand for a moment?"

"Yeah."

He has his doubts, but Genesis doesn't question it. It would only serve to mortify Cloud further and Genesis doesn't wish for that. Under the blond's wary eyes he strips off his coat and boots, setting them aside without a second thought. It leaves him in nothing but a standard First Class uniform and black socks when he makes himself at home on Cloud's bed with a mischievous grin. 

"What are you doing?"

"What does it look like, Cloud Strife?"

"I don't—"

Catching him around the waist and settling him sideways on Genesis's lap effectively silences whatever he was about to say. For once Cloud Strife doesn't seem to find it necessary to protest at being manhandled in such a way either, and to Genesis, it speaks volumes on how pitiful he must feel. 

He's ridiculously warm for having been out of bed in nothing but a t-shirt, threadbare sweatpants and a pair of undignified green polka dot socks for Goddess knows how long. 

"I'm sorry I yelled at you."

Genesis snorts. "Put it this way, there are very few who dare yell at me within theses walls. Two of whom are currently not even available to do so." 

"The....General?"

He suppresses a sigh. It always comes back to him, doesn't it? "Sephiroth doesn't ever yell. He projects. But yes, and Angeal. The puppy's babysitter. Mentor," he amends, pained. _What are you doing out there, Angeal? How are you?_ "He does so frequently."

"Oh. Is it deserved?"

Genesis hums thoughtfully, indulging Cloud's curiosity. "Hm. Perhaps. Sometimes."

"Oh."

He does sound like he's falling asleep by the seconds anyway, head drooping until it lands on Genesis's shoulder. Like he's finally run out of steam with that little tantrum of his. Genesis is more than all right with being fallen asleep on in these particular circumstances, though. "Sleep, Cloud Strife."

"No. All I do is sleep, no. You're here..."

"And I shall remain here, for some time."

"I'd be asleep...."

"As you should be." After a moment he adds, "You are tired."

A huff. "Tell me something I don't know."

Well. He did ask. He shall receive. "If you have need of someone to aid you, I'd be glad to shower with you _any_ time." 

Genesis hides a grin in the blond's hair. Oh, but Genesis delights in it, to gently prod and tease him into the prettiest pink flushes and exasperated splutter, can't get enough of. So shy with words, this one, so sweet. 

"Genesis!" Cloud pinches him but doesn't otherwise move from his spot on Genesis's lap. It's precious. Genesis silently sighs. _'Precious.' That word again!_ There is decidedly some amount of truth to what renowned poets have to tell about matters of the heart. They certainly make you a fool. 

Time passes. No words are uttered and Cloud's breathing slowly but surely evens out under the unfaltering stroke of Genesis's hand. It can't be long until sleep reclaims him, and if Genesis isn't careful, he might not be all that far behind. His mind is calm for a change, as calm as it gets, the hum in the back of his head reduced once more to nothing but soft whispers. 

If he closes his eyes, Cloud's breathing form cradled against him, he cloud almost pretend nothing is wrong. A hesitant voice rouses him from said peaceful thoughts. "Would you?"

He barely minds. "Hm?"

"Shower with me?"

"Of course."

"Really?"

Hair tickles his palm as he runs a hand through the untidy locks. It's horridly addicting. "Naturally." 

"Even now?"

Genesis frowns. "Now?"

"I mean, even with the....the wounds—they're kinda still disgusting--"

"Don't you speak such nonsense, do not dare." Cloud goes tense, shocked blue eyes startled into looking up. And Genesis would be regretful, but. "These are battle wounds, Cloud Strife, there is nought disgusting about them. _Scars_ are not ever that. They show us we survived, no more, no less. For that they should be treasured."

"If you—you won't think it's ugly?"

"Hardly." Genesis runs fingertips down the blond's side, right over where he knows Cloud's injuries to be, out of sight, not mind, covered by light gauze and cloth. Perhaps it is enough, perhaps not. Perhaps he needs to hear more. Genesis will gladly oblige. "You are beautiful, Cloud Strife. More so for having survived these wounds, for I can now indulge in you. Remember that."

Having Cloud lean into him without having to be prompted, it's divine. It is not unexpected in the least to hear that lovely voice a second time, mere minutes later. The words however, he did not expect even when he should have, in retrospect. "They died. They all died." They hadn't spoken of that day at all. Not in these specific terms.

He doesn't have to ask who. "Blondie..."

"I saw them die. Genesis, I saw—they were--"

"There was nothing you could have done."

"You don't know--"

"There was nothing you could have done," he says again, because, oh yes, he does. And the trooper needs to know that, too. "He was a First Class SOLDIER. He had prepared for that mission for Goddess knows how long. You, neither of you, were a match for that." Collateral damage, that's what they were, a passing remark on someone's mission report. _Genesis's_ mission report. "In fact, you did quite well, all things considered."

"I did nothing! I—the things, they—there was so much blood and--"

Genesis shushes him, rocks him. There should be so much to say, shouldn't there, so many platitudes, empty words he wouldn't hesitate to voice if it were anyone else. Useless. Utterly useless is what they are now, unsaid phrases tasting bitter on his tongue, no more. Genesis buries his nose in blond hair and breathes. Generic shampoo, sweat and sorrow, that's all, but if he dared close his eyes right this moment, he thinks he'd still smell blood there. 

"I don't—how could he do that? He was—there were kids and he didn't even, he didn't--"

Little bodies torn apart, yes. He hadn't looked too closely at them. 

"They were so scared..."

"Cloud..."

"I wanted to help them, but I was too—I couldn't--"

Genesis settles his chin on top of Cloud's head. "I know, I know you did what you could." And nearly died trying. 

Sometimes everything won't be enough to save someone, Genesis knows. Has certainly lived it enough. Sometimes you can't save them all. Sometimes the only life you can save has to be your own. Most of the time they are not even there to save a life at all. That's the truth. A cold, hard truth to a lot of people, people like Cloud. But it is the truth. 

What it isn't, though, is the right time to explain that to Cloud, even he can recognize that. 

Arms worm themselves between his back and the mattress so they can hug his waist. "I don't want to talk about that anymore, okay?"

Perhaps he should. It may aid in the long run, but Genesis doesn't have it in him to force the issue. He might have to bring it up at one point, poke at a wound that's not even begun to heal. Eventually, yes, but not this very moment. Not with how the blond is clinging, shaky and sad. "Sleep then, it will do you good."

A nod. "Could you—could you stay until I'm asleep?"

He no longer asks if Genesis will be there when he wakes. It is for another time, that. That and more. They both know. "Of course." He would have even if Cloud had not thought to ask.

"Thank you."

The gentle thudthudthud of Cloud's heart is like a wordless lullaby. It's tempting to stay like this, to just give in, close his eyes and not care about the real word. He can't, though. Not here, not like this. Not _yet_. Because beyond that door, the real world goes on in muted sounds and ticking clocks, steps of rubber soles passing by, the soft swish of doors opening and closing. Further away, the barely audible whisper of voices.

Soft snores eventually reach his ears. Genesis doesn't move, listening to Cloud's sleeping noises, the soft snuffles and breathy sighs. It's familiar now, welcomed. Almost craved. Something to look forward to. That reaction frightens him, frightens him to a point where his fevered mind showcases direful consequences in dream plays, lab scenery and scientists and Cloud, leaving him to cope with skin covered in sweat and a heart pounding in his throat when he bolts awake. 

The mad world outside that door, it will use anything and everything against you, to exploit you. Genesis isn't above doing that himself, he can't dispute it. But just the notion of Cloud Strife being caught in the crossfire of Genesis's games... He hadn't felt this sort of dread before, certainly not on this level.

Somewhere in another room a shower turns on, the rasp of metal hangers of a shower curtain over splattering water. Soon he'll have to leave. Soon. Soon he will tug Cloud Strife into bed and pull the covers over his sleeping form. Soon. For now he can sit still and listen to a heartbeat lullaby, pretending there are no voices waiting for him in the dark of his own slumber.

  


* * *

  


The rising sun colors the horizon shades of blood red and purple, pink and gold licking at the edges of what could be a picture perfect painting. Genesis barely has eyes for nature's spectacle as he enters his office. They are fixed on a pair of envelopes dangling innocently from his fingers, one white and padded, the other flat and the deep, beautiful shade of red. 

His hand reaches for that one first, fingers trailing along its sharp edges. Careful eyes trace the packaging, there's his name, his rank, his employer. No return address. _Interesting._ He easily slips open the seal with a fingertip. A simple note floats on top of his desk, folded and the same color as the envelope. Curiosity and a lot of suspicion have him reaching for the note with careful hands.

> ` You might find this interesting. A like-minded friend. `

  
Genesis scoffs at the wording. At black letters printed directly onto paper. Tacky. His eyes fall to the other envelope. Same typeface, same spacing, no return address either. A warning bell chimes in his head. He uses the sharp, embellished dagger he keeps as a letter opener to slice one side open, blinking when of all things a book falls into his waiting hand. _A Rendition of Loveless,_ the title proclaims and Genesis frowns. He turns the book this way and that in his hold, eyes roaming the cover and back.

It's brand new, no signs of usage or tear, its pages still smelling of fresh ink as he thumbs through it. 

A mere fan would not send this. Genesis certainly trusts his fans to have more taste than this, but then again, stranger things have happened. But. No. This is something else. Genesis picks the note back up. A string of tiny numbers in the lower right corner, numbers he'd overlooked at first glance. Genesis opens the book on the first number.

_...which would indicate that the author designed it to--_ Genesis dismisses the words, eyes roaming the page for any types of inconsistencies. He finds them in the lower half of the text, four lines that are decidedly not part of the original text at all. 

Curiosity piqued, Genesis takes a seat, working through the list of numbers one by one. If he's reading it right, and he surely is, every tidbit is part of a report, talking about genetic engineering, about experiments on children and unborn babies to achieve—something. Genesis isn't altogether certain on what. Annoyingly, the last page holds only a single sentence of out of place text.

> `To Be Continued.`

  
Genesis stares at the phrase for far too long, unblinking, unsettled. The buzz at the back of his head makes itself known, having Genesis flinch, ice cold hands around his neck, white noise in his ears. He doesn't—he can't think! His heart flutters madly in his chest, Genesis can feel it. It's--

Familiar steps shake him out of his stupor moments before the door hisses open. Zack Fair barges into his office without a word but with a subtle tension blanketing his usual laid back demeanor. So obvious in fact, that Genesis pauses a moment before he closes the book and sets it back down. A quick flick of the wrist, and two envelopes disappear in a drawer before the Second steps up to his desk. 

"Is it true?"

Genesis folds his hands on top of a leather desk pad to conceal the shaking in his limbs. "Is what true? Speak plainly, contrary to popular notion I cannot read minds, and I am not in the mood for guessing games."

"Did Sephiroth really go to Wutai?"

The inquiry has his spine straighter. "Where ever did you hear that, Zack Fair?"

Shoulders shrug minutely, but Genesis is an expert in reading people. "Does it matter?"

Considering Sephiroth's mission is classified, apparently even beyond him, he'd say it matters a great deal. Genesis keeps silent.

Atypical irritation sparks hot in Fair's eyes instead of the sheepish amusement he'd expect. "It's not like I'm going to shout if from freakin' rooftops! Just, can't you tell me if—I thought _you_ were going to take over Angeal's job?"

He should have, shouldn't he? _The Fates are cruel...._ "I am not going to inquire where you heard that. I'm sure it was through... licit channels."

"Aww, come on, man! Don't take me for a fool. I know you! You couldn't care less about shit like that, chain of command, and what have ya!"

"Big words, Zack Fair."

The SOLDIER looks about ready to tear his hair out at Genesis's deliberately missing his point. Or, more likely, Genesis's hair. "He's your friend, too! Why are you so difficult about this--"

That thin thread of patience, it snaps. Suddenly there's fire in his eyes and he knows if he were carrying materia, there'd be fire in his palm, too. Zack Fair takes a stunned step backwards when he surges to his feet. 

"I don't know! Is that what you want to hear?" Words like bullets, like a stab wound. Barb wired thoughts that have tormented him for months cutting up his insides as they tumble from his lips, senseless. "Is that what you came here for? To have me admit it? That I have no more of an inkling what is going on than you? That I am not better than--Go find your little know it all friend, perhaps you two can amuse yourselves at my—my--"

He catches himself on the back of his chair before he can do something as mortifying as falling on his face. 

"Genesis?"

"Get out." 

Zack Fair doesn't get out. "What—what's going on?"

"Your presence is headache educing, as always."

"No, that's not—I—you—are you okay?" Genesis gives him a sharp look, ignoring the fire in his head. "No I mean, you looked—I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, like, hurt ya--"

He laughs. "You could not harm me if you tried, Zack Fair."

There's a short silence before an explosive release of breath. "He isn't coming home soon, is he?"

Genesis doesn't say anything. He doesn't have to. His silence speaks even louder than Sephiroth's because Genesis is never silent. 

"I'm just—It's been too long, hasn't it?" Having his own words reflected back at him... Genesis bows his head, hair obscuring his eyes. "He shouldn't have stayed there for so long, something's wrong."

"Yes."

Zack slumps against his desk. "I kinda figured. There's—Kunsel said there's way more stuff on the hush hush than usual. What the hell's going on, Genesis?"

"I don't know."

Genesis carefully walks backward until his back is against his window, letting the glass take his weight. Opposite him, Zack Fair scrubs a hand over his face, picking up Genesis's newly acquired book. 

"What's this?"

"It's from a fan." 

The lie falls effortlessly from his lips, and Genesis watches Fair put the book away precisely as he knew he would. People are simple to manipulate, just a handful of words and a roll of eyes enough to distract from nearly everything. 

"If you—if Sephiroth gets in touch with you—will ya let me know?"

Genesis rolls his lips into his mouth, deep in thought. He can hear Angeal's voice in the back of his head, a pleasant memory amidst all the white noise buzz, can hear him talk with such affection of the student he acquired—a conversation from a lifetime ago, forgotten until now, one they had upon Genesis's return following a prolonged mission. 

The affection had only grown over the years, on both sides, Genesis knows. Sighing, he makes a decision. "Very well, Zack Fair."

Blue eyes snap to his, actually solemn for once. "Thank you."

"Do not thank me. You have no notion what you will learn."

"Nah, I know, I just—thank you. I'm...I just want him to come back here okay, ya know?"

_As do I, as do I, Zack Fair._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a tiny piece of this fic that I'm not going to post as a separate chapter on here seeing that one, it's from a different POV, and two, something that's already happened within the fic. It will most likely end up on my long since dormant [side blog.](http://www.chocolatewrites.tumblr.com) *pets tumblr* Poor neglected thing, you! I still have some editing to do on that, but sooner or later I'll post it there. Most likely later. Man, really, RL is so time-consuming, isn't it... ;) Be well!


	6. Soaked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of soaking Rain and Cloud...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This part's been sitting on my hard drive since the weekend, but alas, work is so freakin' busy I don't even know. *throws hands up* I hope it's worth the wait at any rate!

your hand  
touching mine.  
this is how  
galaxies  
collide.  
― Sanober Khan

It's been raining for hours. 

He's been waiting for Cloud nearly as long. 

He isn't worried. Not really. What could happen on a patrol that never even has Cloud Strife leave this very building? Guarding office floors, stuffy and boring. The answer is nothing. Nothing could have happened. 

At least not without him getting wind of it.

And yet here he is, still on his own three hours after their... appointment with no sign of his blond anywhere. 

Genesis crosses his legs, sinking lower in his seat. What, then, could have possibly kept Cloud Strife away from him? What misfortune could have befallen his blond friend to keep him from being on time? Or informing Genesis of his being late, at the very least. No. He isn't worried, not in the slightest, but he wonders. The dark wine bottle on the dinner table mocks him, sitting perfectly at ease in the company of a leftover wine glass and candles long blown out. 

The food had gone cold even before that. Those two plates of chicken and rice sitting untouched on the kitchen counter. Manifesto of a failed gesture they are, ruined beyond any and all saving grace. Genesis sighs. Dessert, at the least, will still be fine to enjoy if anyone cared to, sweet cake hidden away in the fridge. Outside, footsteps pass his door. Genesis uncrosses and recrosses his legs, yawning. The pelting rain makes him dizzy, lazy. 

Mako eyes treacherously drift to the glass perching on the arm of the chaise lounge, the second half of the crystal twosome, empty now where it had not been earlier. It could be the wine making him tired, too. Possibly it is both. Genesis runs the back of a forefinger along the stem of fine crystal, catching a stray pearl of red liquid before it can stain the white upholstery. 

Genesis tilts his head into the backrest. If it is the wine, the fogginess in his head will clear soon enough. The mako in his blood will make sure of it. If it is entirely the rain... Genesis chances a glance outside, veins of rainwater painting the window. Well, that may take a while. A long while. Unnerved by his own lethargy, he catches hold of the glass and rolls to his feet. 

Refilling it goes almost without a thought, so does taking it with him as he saunters around the room. He could call him, he muses, stopping at the window and looking down on the Plate. He could call, inquire about his whereabouts, perhaps. He knows he won't, too proud for such things he is. Foolish. Bringing the glass to his lips, he takes a careful sip. _Hmm, delicious._

He wants to wash it down like water in frustration no matter the price tag. He doesn't. The wine deserves better, much better, deserves to be served along a fancy meal and pleasant company. Genesis snorts into the drink at the ludicrous thought. The clock on the mantle continues to tick the late afternoon away as he lingers, takes another sip, closes his eyes. The glass is cool against his face, a pleasant contrast to the fire-warmed room at his back. 

Midgar aggrieves him more and more these days. Staying here with no news, no nothing, just the buzz in his head and the thought of wasting away, even just looking at it from all the way up here....it makes his flesh crawl. More so in the rain, always in the rain, boring and gray. Worse now that it is the middle of the day, with no pretty lights to distract anyone from anything. 

The chime of a buzzer sets a sudden end to his maudlin way of thinking. 

Genesis pauses, rolling his head towards the sound. It chimes again and he straightens, takes unhurried steps in its direction while leaving the half empty glass behind on the dinner table. There's a surprise waiting for him on the other side of the door. Not the individual its opening reveals, not so much, but the horrific state the person is in.

Drenched from head to toe, perhaps not a centimeter left untouched by what Genesis assumes is rainwater, Cloud Strife is finally here. 

"Hi...."

Genesis stares. Blond hair sweeps low framing the pretty face, dripping water by the seconds onto clothes and the carpeted floor beneath their feet. Drip. _Dripdripdrip_. A strange rhythm, almost like a melody but still not quite. 

Even with the blue tinge to his skin, he's still the prettiest thing Genesis can imagine. Affection blossoms in his chest, followed by ticklish irritation and the concern that spills out of his mouth in barbed words. "By the Goddess, what possessed you to head outside in this weather? Are you _that_ eager to return to the infirmary?"

Eyes widen, shocked. "No! Of c—course not! I just, Pint g—got a broken leg and I was t—told to c—cover for him...."

Ah. "Then what are you doing here?" Being three hours late, it would hardly matter if he took a half hour longer...

"I'm sorry!" Cloud entirely misinterprets his words and their intent. "I'll g—go in a second, I just w—wanted to apologize a—and explain why I w—wasn't here a—and I was g—going to c—call but my phone is dead from the r—rain and--"

"Your phone is—how ever did you accomplish that, Blondie? Fall into any puddles?"

"N—not really..."

"Then how did it--" Genesis cuts himself off, shaking his head to rid himself of the curiosity. It can wait. "Never mind." 

Catching the blond by the hand, he pulls him inside. Dazed blue eyes blink up at Genesis confused, raindrops sparkling on his lashes like diamonds. 

"If you won't take care of yourself properly, clearly someone will have to do it for you." He tugs on the gloved hand holding onto his fingers, icy cold and wet. "Strip."

Eyes widen further. "C—cold..."

Touching the back of his hand to Cloud's forehead, his cheek, and oh, he _is_ cold, frighteningly so to the redhead's fire-warmed limbs. He gentles his tone. "You won't get warmer staying in those clothes, Blondie."

The confusion lingers in Cloud's stare, body swaying on the spot like he's had too much of Genesis's pricey wine, subconsciously content perhaps to enjoy the warmth Genesis's hands provide. Any other day and he'd be delighted at such reaction, happy to indulge the blond's need to be touched. Not right now. Freeing himself from Cloud's clasp leaves him with the vague impression of guilt as the blond looks utterly bereft at the loss of contact. 

"Strip. That's an order, Private."

For a long moment nothing happens and Genesis suppresses a sigh. But then Cloud blinks and fumbles, opening the Velcro fasteners holding his gloves in place. The fabric is frozen stiff in some places, Genesis can tell, probably frozen to the skin beneath as well. He winces in sympathy as they eventually come free with a vicious pull on Cloud's part.

Content to leave him for the moment, Genesis gathers much needed resources. A short trip to his bedroom provides him with it all, half a dozen towels as well as the two woolen blankets he usually keeps hidden at the back of his closet. Smiling is inevitable as he runs a hand over the soft, well-loved fabric and the smile stretches into a smirk when he finds Cloud where he left him, huffing and fighting with that undignified thing he calls 'scarf.' 

The look of helpless frustration on his face has Genesis take pity on him. Eventually.

Cloud startles at the abrupt proximity, batting at the hand taking a hold of the tangled accessory. "I can do it--"

Not with how constant tremors shake his body. Genesis shushes him. "Oh, don't look so betrayed, Blondie," he placates as he unwinds the piece of cloth with quick fingers, "if your hands weren't half frozen, you'd do fine." The scarf lands on the drenched pair of boots Cloud must have removed in his absence and left abandoned on the sidelines, left shoe tipped over and heavily leaning onto its twin. 

Come to think of it, Cloud looks a lot like that boot, wet and pitiful and leaning onto Genesis to keep his footing.

Sighing again, Genesis makes up his mind first and short work of the rest of Cloud's clothes second. It leaves the trooper in nothing but black boxer briefs and a pretty pink flush for the heartbeat it takes Genesis to get the blanket around him. He stirs the endearing blond mummy around the couch and into lush cushions. 

Cloud's pale toes curl into the fluffy red rug beneath their feet. Genesis stares, in awe. It—it may be the same look, right there in Cloud's eyes, the same emotion Cloud has been watching _him_ with and Genesis has not the slightest idea what he's done to be regarded in such a way. He kisses him anyway, rendered helpless to do anything else in the face of such lovely expression. 

Kisses innocent pressure into soft flesh, tiny pecks that are sweetness and smiles, one, two, another and half a dozen. Such reward, the serene smile on Cloud's lips as he pulls away eventually, that it lingers for the longest time when Genesis goes to pet wet hair dry, combing unruly locks back into place before pressing a towel down on them.

It's hypnotizing, the slick slide of wet hair between his fingers, the give of plush cotton and burning wood crackling at his back, the quiet that covers them like the softest of blankets. Curious enough, Genesis doesn't feel the need to fill it with words, to fill the air with redundant noise. These moments are rare to begin with, rarer now as the world keeps drifting further and further away from him. 

He fusses with Cloud's hair for a long time, clinging to the feeling, the content. Longer than necessary, certainly, so long that Cloud's head starts to droop lower with ever draw of air, every quiet beat of the heart. He permits his fingers to stray from their task, then, sliding down cheeks or behind ears, along a nose and sharp cheekbones, tender touches that warm his insides better than any sun could.

With the last towel gone, Genesis has no excuse to linger, not one reason except his own heart's desire, trying to keep hold of this state of mine for one more heartbeat, another moment. Cloud still watches him with that same sweet smile as Genesis settles on the floor, chin propped up on folded hands. He can't quite read the look, what it means, the way they--

One arm fights its way out of the blanket cocoon. Genesis eyes focus on the hand moving towards his face, smiling when the back of cool fingers stroke his cheek. "You need to stay warm, Blondie," he forces himself to chide—failing to do a single thing about it, leaning into the touch. 

"You're warm too..."

"Am I?"

"Yeah..."

As if to emphasize his point, he catches Genesis's hand and takes it with him, an expression of pure bliss blooming on his face. 

"So warm... please...."

"I'll get you another blanket..."

Blue eyes blink open the tiniest bit, two slits of cornflower blue. "No..."

A single word dragged out for too long. Genesis's amusement grows, fingers lightly tugging at a strand of gold to prod a proper reply out of him. "What is it that you wish then?" He'd give him anything and everything, this very moment. Cloud merely looks at him, a picture of serene calm and contentment, cradling Genesis's hand like a plush toy. Confusion whirls on his mind until-- _Oh..._

"Oh." He likes his furniture comfortable, naturally, but accommodating two people lying down... _Hm._ He is certainly willing to try. 

Cloud wriggles about until his back hits the back of the couch. It leaves Genesis with more than adequate space to navigate, to throw the second blanket over bother their legs before settling down. His fingers find their way back into hair petting and scratching. 

"Better?" He's whispering. It feels appropriate somehow.

"Hm...."

Fingertips tip-toe the small expanse separating their faces. They become the touch of a cool hand as it curls along the side of Genesis's neck, fingers playing with his hair. 

"Aren't you tired?"

"Hmm....no..."

"Your mouth says no, but your body says yes."

A tug on his hair, a reprimand. "Am not, jus' cold." 

"Of course. And tired."

Cloud's eyes blink at him. "No."

Quiet laughter bubbles out of his mouth, light like air. "Stubborn. I like it."

The fingers in his hair slide down to find skin again. Genesis feels himself shiver as they draw delicate lines on his cheekbone, trace the curve of his jaw. Something changes then, between them, the air becoming charged with a different energy. A little sharper and more focused, pointed. Genesis keeps still, watching Cloud watch him, watches eyes dilate. 

Cloud kisses him. 

Cold lips and warm tongue, kissing Genesis into a smile and into parting his lips. Cloud makes a soft noise that translates into happiness, falling deeper into the kiss. A different noise, curious, as he pulls back. "You taste nice..."

"Wine."

"Hm..." A thumb presses down into the flesh of his lower lip, harder until Genesis gets the hint and lets his jaw go slack. Lets Cloud taste and explore, licking the last traces of wine out of his mouth. It's hotter than it should be, perhaps, a tingling press like fingertips dancing up his spine. He rather likes this, too. Cloud kisses him until a breath pulls them apart, quick puffs of air against his face. 

Genesis's own hands get tangled in Cloud's hair, roots still damp as he pulls him back in, holding his head in place to bite and lick—and to retreat whenever the blond responds to his advances. Pouting is a very good look on him, Genesis decides, all kiss swollen lips and wide blue eyes, one that has pleasure racing like electricity over the surface of his skin, leaving him shuddery and wide awake as a result. 

The blanket falls open to his navel when Cloud worms his other arm out of it. A thumb stroking the upturned corners of Genesis's smiling lips steals the rebuke once more from Genesis's mind. "Pretty," the pinkish mouth murmurs, so close Genesis can feel the words take shape. 

Genesis preens at the praise, and yet. "You don't have to flatter me, Blondie, you already have me right here."

"'m not, you're just so, so beautiful..."

"Such compliments today," he murmurs, touching their noses together, "what is it that you want?"

"No, I just--"

Genesis pushes himself up on his elbow to kiss him quiet. "I know, Cloud Strife," he concurs once he's satisfied, mouthing his jaw and the soft spots beneath. "I know." 

The necklace of kisses he leaves on Cloud's skin glistens bright in the firelight. Genesis hums low in his throat, calculating, running his nose along jaw and cheek and temple to reach the sensitive spot behind his ear. Cloud half laughs, half sighs at first contact, but sucking and licking there leaves him a squirming mess, always and without fail, trying to press closer and away at the very same time. 

The urge to claim is right there. To suck and bite a mark into near flawless skin. He can feel the desire down to his toes, but Genesis isn't stupid. No matter the scarf the blond wears, people would notice eventually. And as much as he'd like to mark him, he would dread to make life more difficult than it already is for Cloud. 

Genesis touches his shoulder and Cloud moves beautifully with the push, rolling over onto his back. Genesis rewards him with a smile and the weight of a hand on his sternum, fingers idly stroking the dip between collarbones. He follows it up with his mouth, with tongue and lips and teeth nipping at distinct bones. 

Cloud still tastes like rain there, rain and skin and sweat like a hot, humid summer day, like tantalizing heat and sex. And, _oh, yes..._ He trails a hand down Cloud's arm, fingertips that leave goosebumps in their wake, his side to reach his hip, stroking blanket covered thighs and catching Cloud's gaze through his lashes. Want has darkened Cloud's eyes to a different shade of blue and Genesis finds he can't quite look away. 

So he doesn't, not when he lowers his head, not until his tongue steals Cloud's gaze away, a breathy sigh preceding low-pitched moans. Music to his ears, and he is grinning when he brings up a hand to join his mouth, fingertip circling another pink nipple. The chest under his lips shudders, flush extending so far down that it vanishes even beneath the blanket, rousing Genesis's curiosity. 

A hand lands on his head eventually, an unassuming, innocent weight, just there, quiet. 

Genesis's grin turns sharp, scheming. Because oh, Genesis knows exactly how to change that, turn it into something else, something glorious, catching the nipple between his teeth, biting. The hand in his hair clenches into a fist, sudden and quick and not so unassuming anymore, pulling hard enough to sting. _Hmm..._ Such sweet pain this is, exhilarating, making him moan and shudder and suck harder to get more of it, more of that exquisite pleasure, humming approval when Cloud's hips buck in response. 

It's divine, this reaction! Involuntarily, beckoning him forth, further, lower, and he permits himself to get lured in by the call, the heat, the promise, mouth leaving a wet trail down the blond's ribs and lower abdomen, where muscles flutter like butterfly wings under his tongue. 

Teasing, Genesis lets his hair fall onto bare skin, too, sweeping, tickling. The reaction is explosive laughter even as Genesis drags a thumb over the waistband of Cloud's underwear, but Goddess, Genesis loves it, this playful side of sex! Such joy, such easy proximity, intimacy. It stretches his lips in delight as he playfully bites once, twice, three times at Cloud's hipbone, licking at the marks his teeth leave in damp cotton—and stops. 

Blue eyes take a moment to focus. 

"Bed?"

Cloud blinks until understanding dawns in his eyes and his head nods and nods again and the mattress of Genesis's bed dips under both of their weight a few strides later as he sets Cloud down on top of the covers, a shimmery backdrop of inky black and deep ruby red contrasting wonderfully with Cloud's blond hair and pale complexion. 

Laid out like this he's art, bitten lips and flushed chest, wide eyes against silk, a piece of art that could be displayed in museums and not be out of place. 

Genesis crawls up the live masterpiece, hovering on hands and knees to stare, to take it in, look his fill and dip low for a taste. Kneeling over Cloud, he unwraps the rest of the body like the gift it is. Spots of red bloom high on the blond's cheeks. Eyes flutter but don't stray, not even when Genesis's hands skim black boxer briefs down his legs, removing that last barrier of modesty. 

And oh, _oh_! This, now _this_ is art, too! Different. Sensual, beautiful, innocent but not quite—Genesis drinks it in in a long, appraising sweep up and down the naked body. His gaze settles hot on his groin, the flushed, hard curve of a cock towards a flat stomach. Genesis licks his lips unconsciously. The tip is shiny wet and purple, skin flushed pink, such a pretty range of colors, and Genesis stares, mouth watering, wanting to taste, to bend down and—

Sweat gathers at his temples and lower back, stinging the corners of his eyes.

He runs a simple fingertip along the length instead. The touch of a feather, the caress of the hardly calloused pad of his forefinger, and yet Cloud reacts tremendously, breath leaving him in a loud rush through the O shape of his lips. He sounds like he's choking on it when he sucks air back into his lungs, eyes squeezed shut so tightly Genesis cannot help but wonder if he sees stars. 

"Cloud." Genesis waits for him to open them before he replicates the move, just as drawn-out but with the blunt edge of fingernails trailing along the path. The body on the bed jolts like hit by lightning, trembling and jerking at Genesis touches. 

"G—genesis--"

Genesis uses the palms of his hands to open the V of Cloud's legs, fitting himself between them. "Hmm?"

Cloud slips a hand under Genesis's shirt, up the curve of his back and down, tickling where spine dips before it arches into the swell of his ass, and Genesis has to struggle for control, to not arch into it like a spoiled cat. He does make a good attempt at purring as tickling becomes more, becomes needle sharp nails scratching red into hyper-sensitive skin. 

The absurd noises he makes in response—thank Gaia they get swallowed by Cloud's mouth. 

They turn into ones of dissatisfaction when the scratching stops and Cloud turns his head away, and that, that is not what—Disappointment melts quickly as the hand pulls at clothes. Words spill from Cloud's sweet lips. "Off...off, please..." he pants, and _oh, why, yes_! Soft cashmere ruffles Genesis's hair as he slips it over his head and tosses it away, for the moment not caring where it lands. 

The motion rolls their hips together in that marvelous way that makes you moan, makes you shiver and sweat all at once, and Genesis indulges the both of them when he keeps moving with it, rocking together until they are a mess of sounds and tastes. And such beautiful noise they make, sensual music, a symphony of slick skin and desperate air, gasps and moans and whimpers. Until Cloud is only ever gasping his name and Genesis can lick sweat off his cheek. 

"Genesis." The sound of his name smeared into oblivion against lips and cheeks and neck, over and over and over like a poem. "Genesis, Genesis, Genesis..."

"Goddess, the way you sound right now..."

"I want—I want--" His voice is broken, rough like sandpaper. 

He could make him ask for it, make him say the words, make him beg, even. He could. He doesn't. There's no victory in it, no defeat, not this time. "I know, I'll take care of you..." His jeans rasp against his cock as he distorts himself to get them off, angling his body around to snatch the small tube from his bedside table and a rectangle pillow from the head of the bed. 

Grabbing Cloud by the ankles, he pushes his legs up and apart, slipping the pillow under his ass. He must make a noise appreciating the sight, because there's a sudden blush adorning Cloud's face and the reflex of closing his legs. Genesis stops him with a touch to the knee. "Don't," he murmurs, "close your eyes and breathe." 

The flick of a lid and cool gel dribbles onto his fingers.

The first press of Genesis's finger has Cloud jerk. Genesis shushes him, soothes with lips pressed to the inside of a knee and soft sounds hummed into skin as he tries again, strokes in slick circles and a gentle, slow, oh so slow back and forth to get him used to such exotic touch. The sound Cloud makes when his fingertip dips inside, Genesis feels it under his skin like a surge, a live wire touched with bare hands. He doesn't bother to stifle the sound he makes. It's been too long since he's been effected this hotly. 

In contrast Cloud's hand flies up to his mouth, teeth digging into the fleshy parts of a finger. The high keening noises still find a way around the makeshift barrier and Genesis is grateful for it. He wants to hear them all, study them, learn the sounds he can coax from his blond when he pushes deeper, deepest, rotating his finger _just so_ , thrusting in and out slowly and a bit quicker and rougher once hips roll into his hand. Learn them by heart.

More lube and he adds a second digit. The change makes Cloud throw his head back mewling, helplessly writhing around Genesis's fingers like he doesn't know what to do with himself, with the pleasure coursing through him. Genesis can relate, his cock hard and aching, neglected. He palms himself almost at an afterthought, stroking and squeezing absentmindedly as his eyes are glued to the place where his fingers disappear into the other's body and Cloud's face. 

His _face_! Goddess, if two fingers are doing things like this to him...

The thought sets every cell in his body alight, sweat trickling down his neck and back. It's... Genesis shudders, can't help it, giving his cock one last stroke before letting go in favor of Cloud. After that, it's over. Genesis can read the signs in muscles tensing, in toes curling, in hands grasping sheets, of release, intense, crashing over the blond like a tidal wave, on and on. 

His own orgasm hits him without warning even as he touches himself. The spark of white hot pleasure that is suddenly there, the bottom of his spine, behind his eyes, everywhere, the spark that bows his back, leaves him breathless, spilling over himself and Cloud's naked skin with a forehead pressed painfully to Cloud's raised knee. Their combined panting is too loud in Genesis's ears as his senses return to him, the room too bright for mako eyes, entirely too hot for sensitive skin. 

He stays like this until the white edges in his vision recede, their heartbeats and breathing no longer shattering his eardrums. He carefully removes his fingers when they are no longer shaking, slides out the pillow from under the blond's behind and cleans them both up as best as he can manage. 

Cloud barely even twitches, legs falling at an odd angle. He gently straightens them out, sits by quietly, waiting, one hand looped around an ankle to ground himself, ground Cloud, thumb moving in an absentminded arch over the bone. Heartbeats slow and settle, breathing calms. Blue eyes blink. Shining and bright, they look at him in curiosity when Genesis makes an effort to catch them after giving him time to come around, get down from the high. 

Genesis smirks. "Are you tired now, Cloud Strife?"

Lips don't even twitch. Cloud's hair swishes audibly across the pillow as he shakes his head no. 

"Cloud—"

"Come up here?"

"Why, of course, since you asked so nicely..." Cloud stops him from lying next to him with a hand on his arm, tugging until he gets the idea and lies down covering Cloud's body instead. Using his forearms to prop up his upper body, he looks down with a soft smile. "Better?"

Another shake of a head spills hair all over his hands. Arms come up to hug his neck at the same time, pulling him down until all of his weight is pressing the body under his into the mattress. Genesis laughs quietly into Cloud's neck, humming in pleased encouragement when Cloud starts playing with his hair. Genesis only starts wondering about it when the quiet goes on for too long. 

"Are you alright, Cloud Strife?"

"Mhmm..."

He doesn't sound it. "Are you certain?"

Cloud's cheek moves against Genesis's when he nods, fingers scratching at the nape of his neck. Genesis tries not to purr. 

"I didn't touch you."

Reality is slow to bleed into a blissed out mind, but once the words register, they can't be unheared. Cloud doesn't seem to notice. 

"I mean, I was just lying here and didn't....do anything." _What?_ Cloud's arms around his neck tighten, keeping him from taking a look at him. "No, don't look at me."

"What are you—"

"I'm sorry! I don't know how to—Shouldn't I do something for you, in return? After what you..."

"Blondie....what are you even—where is this coming from? Did—who told you that?"

"No one, just....isn't it like that, though?"

"Cloud—yes. Of course. But it's supposed to be fun, pleasurable, making each other feel good. Not checking a tally on who did what when and how often. Sex is not keeping score." He hums softly, thinking. "And you did feel good, did you not?"

"Yeah, but what about you? I didn't--"

Genesis Rhapsodos does not feel out of his element very often. He does now, scrambling for words completely at a loss. "Giving pleasure to someone you... care about can make you feel just as good. You have no idea what you looked like, what you sounded like. How it—it was delightful!"

The silence that follows, it's loud, heavy, burns like an open flame on his skin, demanding attention. The words out of Cloud's mouth after, they blindside him, entirely not what he had anticipated. "You care about me?" He sounds so surprised, voice scarcely above the rustle of a falling leaf.

Genesis would laugh if the situation weren't so appalling. "I thought that would have been obvious, Cloud Strife." 

"I just..."

He kisses the words out of Cloud's mouth, wishing he could extinguish this way of thinking just as easily. "I like you," he whispers, lips brushing lips as he forges thoughts into words, "rather a lot." More than is good for him or Cloud. 

"Oh." 

Genesis does laugh now. "Yes, oh."

"I...I lo—I like you, too. Lots. I--"

"Naturally...." Genesis kisses the corners of his mouth—and, just because he can and it will make him scrunch up his face endearingly, the tip of his nose, too. The lethargy from before, it catches up to him too quickly, a liquid weight sinking into his bones and even deeper, weighing him down. He welcomes it now with open arms, though, with that warm body against him, his bed right there. "Hmm, I feel like taking a nap..."

"I... now?"

"Hmm, yes...." He'd not ever ask Cloud to stay, but he wants to. He wants. "You are free to get back up, go watch tv or whatever you please..." _Staystaystaystay....._

Cloud's voice shushes him, fingertips scratching patterns into his hair. "Shh. It's okay, I'll stay." He can't quite tell, too far removed from his own body he feels, but he thinks he can feel the pressure of lips on top of his head. Just for a second, there and gone quicker than the blink of eyes. "This is nice..."

It is. The whole room has gone soft around the edges, a warm, rose gold glow that blurs his vision. He'd worry about it more, he thinks, if his mind weren't so slow with content right now, wrapped in layers and layers of.... fluffy cotton.... wool. 

"Hmm....nice...."

Outside the world keeps turning.

The rain keeps falling. 

Inside, the world is warm and, for once, standing still.

Genesis sleeps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writer's block is such a §$%& right now, maybe it's a good thing I don't have much free time to write, huh? *waves* Be well!


	7. Sleepwalker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of late-night snacks and bedtime conversations...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry that it took me so long to upload this. It's been written for weeks, but I didn't have time to do any kind of editing for the longest time, so the chapter just sat there on the hard drive waiting on me. :/ Hopefully I can get back to my normal schedule soon.

It's the cold that rouses him. A bone deep, freezing chill that drives him from his bed, away from the sleeping body that's been curled into his side for hours. A cold he's only ever known when hit with an Ice3 spell. There's a pain like needles behind his eyes. His legs refuse to take the weight when he stands, SOLDIER reflexes almost not enough to save him from falling over. 

Crashing into the wall is no improvement, but he has little choice in the matter. The impact shoots lightning down his arm, down his back, not numb, a feeling like his spine is bending backwards, twisting around itself to break loose.

On the bed, a shadow turns under the sheets. He barely hears it over the ringing in his ears, barely hears the hissing door closing behind him. Another stumble. Genesis just so catches himself on the sink, head bowing low, hair falling into his eyes. He feels like it shouldn't, instead be frozen like the rest of him. 

_Drip._

Genesis flinches at the noise, a sound like a gunshot in the quiet room. 

_Dripdrip._

The contrast of red blood on white porcelain, splattered like ink... it brings back the memory of Cloud's hair against his pillows, so pretty and bright. 

_Drip. Dripdripdrip._

There's nothing pretty about this. There shouldn't be. Genesis stares in deranged fascination anyway, captivated at his blood being spilled in such an ordinary way.

Outside, sheets whisper with renewed movement. More persistent now and restless. _Don't wake up._ Staring at the blood trickling down the drain, it's all he can think, _Goddess, please don't let him wake up._

It's the last thing he remembers before thoughts leave him entirely. 

He is on the floor when awareness returns to him. With blood on his hands, dried and ugly under his nails, a puddle of brownish red on the tiles beneath his head. There's no window in the room, no means to gauge the time. Has it been minutes since? Hours? Seconds?

Sheets whisper in the next room. Not too much time, then, if Cloud is still asleep in his bed. A few minutes, perhaps. A few more. Genesis viciously scrubs the blood from his skin, from his hair where it glued strands to his neck. He burns the washcloth with a click of his fingers.

It _hurts_.

Using materia has never hurt. Not once. Not even at the beginning. 

It hurts now. Turns the blood under his skin into a stream of boiling lava. The pain is severe enough, _sudden_ enough, to bend him in half where he kneels. There's no air in the room. No air in his lungs, going under, drowning in that sea of molten rocks.

That horrifying feeling, it's gone as abruptly as it overwhelmed him. Leaves him spraying red dots everywhere while he coughs and pants.

It matters little when Cloud moves again, sheets rustling like the nervous flutter of feathers, a restless bird flapping its wings. Genesis frowns. There, the slight catch in breathing again. It drives him up and out of the door, knowing.

Thin traces of light falling through half closed blinds are more than enough for any SOLDIER to find their way around. To reveal the frantic movement of eyes hidden behind closed lids if they'd only know to look close enough. _Dreams are real while they last. Can we say more of life?_ The words come to him out of nowhere, darting around his head like an echo of the past, but Genesis has to give his mind credit. 

The quote is an apt one.

He carefully perches on the edge of the bed. "Cloud." Eyes squeezed tightly shut, Cloud tosses his head toward Genesis's voice. Looking at him from this angle is... disconcerting. The artificial light imposing on the room, it reflects off the wetness on Cloud Strife's face, glistening tracks of tears disappearing into a pillow. 

Genesis swallows against the dryness in his mouth, putting an unsteady hand on the blond's shoulder, looking for an anchor—for himself and for Cloud. It doesn't exactly work out like that, though, as Cloud comes awake on a small cry, spooked, heart thundering in his chest. Genesis can feel it, the _thudthudthud_ under the palm of his hand as distinct as his own. "Blondie--"

He doesn't anticipate for Cloud to strike out at him. Frantic blows that catch him on the corner of his mouth, his shoulders and his chest before instinct takes over, hands latching onto wrists holding them down. "Cloud--"

"No! No!" Desperation, naked and raw. Genesis has heard it a thousand times, everywhere. Facing enemies out on the battlefield, knowing they are about to die at his hand, strangers pleading for their lives. It claws at his chest to hear it now, for that dear voice to sound exactly the same. "Let me go, let me go! I have to--" His voice breaks. 

"It's all right, Blondie, you're all right--"

Cloud doesn't hear, still too far gone. "Please... please I have to help them— _please_..."

"Stop. Cloud, stop, you're going to--"

Soft weeping silences him more effective than any blow could, the sound so desolate, so excruciating, it slices bleeding wounds into Genesis's flesh. Helpless, hopeless pleading as a weary body keeps thrashing around like a wild animal fighting for its life. He might as well be, for all Genesis knows, caught in the residue of his nightmare. 

Genesis hugs him—powerless to do anything else, with no idea what to do, no idea how to reach him, what to say to bring him back to his senses. Hugs him. Holds on as tight as he dares, caught in the crippling state of helplessness himself. Brings his lips down to the blond's ear. "It's alright, Blondie, it's alright," he cajoles, forcing a calm he does not feel into his voice, "I'm here, you can come back now. Come back. Just come back."

Time passes, minutes that crawl by like hours, like entire lifetimes, but the blond's pleading eventually, mercifully, ceases. As it does, so do his struggles. "Genesis..."

"Yes..." A relieved sob and Genesis is the one being hugged, being clung to by arms strangling his neck, clung to like never before by anyone. "Hush, you are all right," he soothes, hands rubbing warmth into a shaking back, "you are fine. Shh, it's fine."

Genesis knows about nightmares, and there's little comfort from nightmares like this, nightmares born of reality, of witnessed horrors and misery, of regrets. They follow you into the waking world, right into the light of day. Genesis cups the base of Cloud's skull, urging the head down onto his shoulder. Wet lashes brush his skin with every flutter of eyes. 

He'll offer what ever small comforts there are. Stay for as long as it takes, he already knows. He doesn't care how long. Genesis will stay for as long as he's needed, for as long as Cloud's fingers have a death grip on him, clutching at his clothes like a lifeline, like they never want to let go. 

Until they do, sudden and sharp like they have been slapped away. "Cloud?" 

The blond bodily tears himself away, scrambling back across the bed until his back hits the wall and there's nowhere else to go. His horror-stricken eyes have Genesis's heart in his throat. 

"Gaia, I hit you! I didn't mean to hit you!"

"I—You were dreaming..."

"No, no, I was—I didn't--"

"Cloud. You were half asleep. You weren't even aware I was there."

"I—I should have! Did I—did I hurt you?"

Genesis's pride scoffs. "I'm perfectly fine. The more pressing matter is, are _you_ all right, Cloud Strife?"

"Yeah, I don't—do you--" He falls oddly silent when Genesis extents a hand to sooth him. Genesis drops the hand. "Did I... say anything?"

"Cloud--"

"I should go. I--" Tears spill down his cheeks. "I'm okay, it's nothing, I'm just stupid..." It hurts. Hurts in places Genesis hadn't realized could still hurt that Cloud sees the necessity to pretend everything is fine when, clearly, it is everything but. "I'll—I'll go get a glass of water and let you get back to--"

"You don't have to leave."

"Back to sleep."

Cloud nearly takes a fall as he stumbles out of bed. He manages to catch himself against the wall with one hand and a startled yelp, but then keeps standing there, frozen, caught between staying and going, indecisive, lost. 

Genesis holds out his hand. "Come back to bed. I'll get you a glass of water." 

Blond strands fly wildly in reply. "I can do it. It's fine, I'll be—back."

A flash of red demands Genesis's attention. It clings to one corner of the bed, barely hanging on. Genesis saves it from dropping, soft cashmere under his fingertips. "Take this, then." Cloud catches the sweater with clumsy hands, almost dropping it after all before hugging the balled up fabric to his chest. "Go on," he coaxes, "it will keep you warm."

It's too big on him, naturally, neckline hanging low to reveal the dip and rise of collarbones, too long sleeves that Cloud brings down to cover his hands. He would have found it quite appealing just a few hours ago, a turn on, having Cloud wear his clothes. It makes it difficult to breathe for altogether different reasons now, because all it does is make Cloud Strife appear incredibly young. 

"I'll... I'll just. Go."

Genesis lets him, watching closely until he eventually slips around the corner and out of sight. He can still listen to his progress, though, the clock on the mantle tick away the late hour through the open door. Hear Cloud's quiet, cautious footsteps on Genesis's soft carpet—no socks—his shaky, too shallow draw of air as he makes his way across the shadowy realm of his living area. The sound of a nose being blown.

The opening of another door is next, cabinets, the clink of a glass on stone, then nothing. A nothing that goes on for too long. It is that silence that drives him out of his bed and the room a second time this night, the absence of a faucet turning on, of the sound of running water. There's no soundtrack of pelting rain either when he steps into his living room. The sky only nighttime dark now, no storm clouds far and wide. 

Somehow, they slept through the storm moving on. 

Midgar's sea of lit billboards and neon signs slant shadows into the path of Cloud's shuffling feet. There's something in his gaze that gives Genesis's questions pause. Curiosity, a wide eyed expression and a tilt of a head trying to figure something out. It's a great deal more welcome than the fear and defensiveness of minutes prior. 

"There is food—the pots, in the sink....plates..."

"Yes. It's a kitchen, Cloud Strife.  
.  
"Yeah, no, I know, I just—you cooked?"

Ah. "I had plans for us to have dinner, if that is what you ask." And was that truly mere hours ago? 

"For me?"

"Why so surprised?"

"I—the only one who ever cooked for me is my mother... Well, and Zack, sometimes." 

Genesis smirks. "I assure you, Angeal would be dismayed at his student's manners."

"No, it was fine, I just... you cooked. For me."

"Again, why so surprised? It's nothing special..."

"No one—people don't really like me, you know. They don't, like, invite me over or anything."

"I hardly believe that to be true."

"You should, it is. I was—the other kids back home—I grew up in a village in the mountains. They didn't really, like, like me there. Or at all. There was this girl, no, not like that," Cloud vehemently objects Genesis's raised eyebrow, "she sometimes spent time with me. The others, they didn't... bother."

The fractured statement, scarce and reluctant, the manner in which he holds himself, slouched and guilty, it reveals much about the blond, perhaps more than Cloud realizes. His body language even more so than the words he speaks. 

"I didn't have many friends growing up either," Genesis admits. Why he would, he has no idea. "There was Angeal, naturally," and the reminder aches, leaves him with a heavy heart, "a handful of others, but being a rich man's son, our peers usually tried to befriend me for the sole reason of getting something out of it, out of me. I didn't much care for that, of course." 

He still doesn't. 

_Angeal, old friend. I wish I knew what you are doing, you and Sephiroth; please, I hope you are all right,_

Cloud bows his head. "I can't imagine anyone not wanting to be friends with you."

Ah, such compliments again, misplaced as they are. "Cloud. Think about what people say about me here and then think about what you just said." 

"Oh."

"Yes. But no matter that. I've been... different, let's say, even then. And you must know that, in small communities, that's hardly a good thing."

"Yeah. I'm... sorry."

"What ever for?"

"Bringing this up. I didn't mean to make you sad."

Genesis blinks. "What makes you think I'm sad, Cloud Strife?"

"I don't—you just got that look..."

 _Oh._ Had it been so obvious? Genesis had hoped not. "It has nothing to do with what I told you, I promise you. There's just... much on my mind right now." An understatement.

"I understand." He doesn't, is the thing, and Genesis is so very glad for it. "I'm still sorry I ruined your day."

" _My friend, the fates are cruel..._ You have not." Cloud bestows him with a skeptical look. "Truly, you haven't." Genesis moves the two, three paces it takes to get within arm's reach. "Au contraire, I seem to recall we had a....very lovely time together." Cloud ducks his head in the face of Genesis's suggestive grin. "Would I have preferred to know you would be late? Naturally, but we do not always get what we want." 

"No, but still..."

"It's not as if you could have refused orders either way, Blondie." Despite his subdued mood, the idea amuses him. "Though I must say, I would have been delighted to see your CO's face if you had explained why."

"I'm still sorry..."

And there it goes again! That inferiority complex of Cloud's rearing its ugly head. It will be infinitely tiring curing him off it, Genesis can tell. "Very well. I forgive you. Better?" A soft nod. "Good. Even if there is not one thing you need to ask forgiveness for."

Cloud looks up with wide eyes. "But. You cooked for me and I didn't get to taste it..."

Genesis laughs. "Oh, I think I could be... persuaded to do so again--"

Sweet lips cut him off. On his cheek, his nose, his jaw. His lips. A sweeter smile when they part. "Pretty please?"

"Hm, so be it, then." Arms loop around his waist, a blond head tipped against his chest. Genesis rests his chin on top of it. And come to think of it... "In fact, there might still be something left. Something sweet, if you cared for such a thing now?"

Cloud head tilts. "Now?"

"Would you rather go back to bed, you _are_ tired..."

"No, no," and, oh, not exactly a surprise, is it, the prompt denial, "just, it's late, you don't mind?"

"Hardly." Genesis wouldn't have offered otherwise. He pushes Cloud towards the dining table. "Make yourself comfortable. I'll be back."

Finding Cloud sitting on his dining table gives him a curious sense of déjà-vu. He recognizes the reason why a little later when setting a freshly opened bottle of wine down next to the blond. There had been times when Angeal's charge had perched on every table and desk instead of putting chairs to their intended use. It had driven Genesis up the wall and eventually turned into a game of sorts when the puppy had somehow discovered just how much that particular behavior had vexed Genesis. 

Angeal, on the other hand, had been endlessly amused at Genesis's helpless irritation. 

Tonight it's only amusement that twitches the redhead's lips. "I see you have been spending much time again with the puppy." Genesis stops him from pushing off the tabletop with a mild tap to Cloud's thigh. "Never mind, it's fine, Blondie, here." Genesis proffers the china plate with an elegant flourish and a half bow, a challenging twinkle in his eyes. "One slice of Black Forest cake, just as the kind Sir ordered!" 

It's precious how it's accepted with a blush and a quicksilver smile. "Th—thank you..."

"You are _certainly_ welcome."

_Tick-tock._

"Well? It's not going to eat itself, or are you just going to stare at it?"

"Course not, it's just so pretty...."

And it is surely pretentious to presume that no other person than himself can recognize the beauty in as simple things as food anymore, but he knows he's self-centered. It's remarkable how Cloud Strife manages to surprise him with seemingly trivial insights in the face of said vanity anyway. Like this one. It's a slice of cake, yes, but Cloud is right, it is also very, very pretty—textures and colors, chocolate brown and whipped cream white and cherry— _drip. drip. dripdripdrip._ — red. 

Genesis pries the fork from Cloud's fingers with excessive strength. 

Not unexpected but rewarding still, Cloud makes a pleased noise around the piece of fluffy baked goods Genesis feeds him, eyes fluttering shut. 

"Good?"

A pink tip of a tongue darts across his lips, catching a stray crumb. "Hmm, _soooo_ good..." Genesis preens. 

He feeds him another forkful before handing back the fork. Reaching past Cloud, he grabs hold of the wine glass still sitting there, hooking an ankle around a chair to take a seat at Cloud's feet. Cloud, who abruptly regards him with a baffled frown—for entirely different reasons than his shaking hands as he refills his glass, it turns out, thank Goddess. 

"Aren't you going to have some too?"

"I quite like watching you," he muses. 

Sweet laughter trickles from Cloud's lips. It gets small crumbs all over his lap and the table and cashmere wool on top of that. A hand slips behind his neck. "Come here..." Genesis goes with its pull, curiosity getting the better of him. One day it might be his end. Not tonight. Free hand holding onto Genesis's shoulder, Cloud leans down to fit their mouths together and Genesis can feel his thoughtful humming all the way down to his toes. 

"Hm, the wine is nice with the cake." 

He is not wrong. "Have some, then," he proposes, "it will help you sleep."

"Nah, it's okay. Probably tastes better on you anyway!" 

Perhaps, Genesis muses as he's prompted into another cake flavored kiss, perhaps he is on to something. _Hmmm..._ Perhaps the velvet smooth cake tastes better on the blond's lips, too. A little bit later, Genesis shakes only with mirth when Cloud starts licking the plate clean, pink tongue darting out in quick kitten licks. 

_Oh Angeal, did you know the puppy got himself a kitten? What ever shall we do?_ "Shall I take this as a compliment?"

A cheeky grin. "Maybe. Mama would have my head, though!"

"How so?" 

"Sweets in the middle of the night is not something she'd let me get away with, usually I mean. I mean, we didn't—we didn't have much money anyway, but she'd buy whatever she could, but we had rules? When I was done with homework and dinner or whatever, she'd hand me something and—or sometimes when I was sick, I liked stories, so she'd read to me and make me tea with honey and--" Cloud laughs memory happy. "She'd always scold me when I tried sneaking candy behind her back! And she always knew!" 

"Mothers usually do," he says, distantly recalling Gillian Hewley's playfully stern face. "What did she read to you?"

Blue eyes blink, bewildered. "Uh, all kind of things? She just likes books, I guess. Got them used and every way she could, and I kinda took to it, too, a little. I think she even read Loveless to me once, huh."

The last part, it sounds like he's talking more to himself than Genesis, but that. That is exactly the part that sticks with him, of course it does! Delighted, warm laughter bubbles up his chest and past his lips. " _Infinite in mystery is the gift of the Goddess_... Your mother sounds quite remarkable, Cloud Strife."

Cloud scowls. "You just like that she likes Loveless."

"Hm, perhaps, but that does not negate the fact that she also raised you." And Goddess, does he ever cherish it, the way Cloud will blush so easily at a handful of innocuous compliments. "Did you?"

"Huh?"

Genesis rolls his eyes. "Did you like it?"

"Well, I--yeah?"

"Don't do that. Don't just tell me what I want to hear."

"I, uh, I don't know. I was kinda young, and I didn't really understand lots of it, then, I mean."

"And now?"

Shoulders rise and fall in a shrug. "I still don't know. Is that bad?"

Genesis hums thoughtfully. "Granted, it _is_ a tragedy that so many people don't know to appreciate the beauty of those words any more, but I have been surrounded by philistines such as Zack Fair for years... I surmise I shall live."

Cloud's eyes are laughing. "You are such a dra--" He cuts himself off by slamming both hands over his mouth. 

_Such dramatics!_ Well, call him intrigued. "Yes?"

"Nothing! I was just thinking out loud about that—nothing. It's definitely nothing."

Close enough. "Very well. Nonetheless, your mother has excellent taste in poetry, be sure to pass that on to her."

"I'll... I'll write her. She'll be delighted to hear that from you."

He sounds... strange. Not quite the way Genesis would expect. "You are not?"

"No, no, please don't think—I just wish I was more like—that I was better. You know?"

"In what way?"

Cloud shrugs, avoiding eye contact. "Someone she can be proud of, I guess?"

"Why wouldn't she be?"

"I was going to—when I came to Midgar, I don't know if you know, I wanted to--"

"Join SOLDIER. I assumed so. Few ever come here to join the army. Go on."

"I wanted to be—the, the girl I mentioned, before? I wanted to protect her if she ever needed me again and I—I can't go back there. Not now, not again, not until--"

"You may not be SOLDIER just yet, but you _have_ grown, Cloud Strife. You are certainly someone any mother should--"

"What good did that do me? With that SOLDIER, I still couldn't do a damned thing to help anyone! The—someone took my gun and shot the kids, did—did you know that?" The blond looks ill as he spits out the words, like they taste as bitter as they sound. "So they would die quick—so they didn't have to...to suffer? Did you? Know?"

He hadn't. It does reinforce certain theories, however. Genesis catches a bare ankle, pulling feet into his lap to stop their anxious back and forth. 

"I couldn't—he said it was our fault. Not—not us, the... the company, that they do things—but I don't—I wanted to shoot him, too, to just—I couldn't do anything! If I had been SOLDIER, I could have--"

"Done nothing. Nothing, because you wouldn't have been on that mission." And he wouldn't have, Genesis is certain of that. It had been a one man operation, no need for an extra SOLDIER to tag along. "But if you had, for some obscure reasons even I can't think of, he would have killed you, too. And Cloud, there still would have been nothing you could have done."

"Zack said—he said he's dead..."

"Yes."

"Did he—did you kill him?"

"No. I had... orders to the contrary. He shot himself."

"I—oh. I didn't know that."

Of course he didn't. It is not exactly public knowledge. Genesis lets him think on that for a while, blue eyes contemplating the empty plate in his hands like the most fascinating thing in the universe, holding all life's secrets. Oh, if only that were true! Life would be so much easier. Then again, life is never that, so perhaps not.

"Tell me about the nightmare."

Cloud's head snaps up. "I don't--"

"The one from earlier. The one that stops us from going back to bed."

"I'm sorry. I really, really am trying to be stronger."

There it is again, that lack of confidence. The attitude of turning the other cheek. Genesis hates it. Hates the people—individuals who might not even exist, for all he knows—who planted that idea in his head, who gave it roots there. Who did nothing to prevent this. "Will you call the puppy weak?"

"What? No! I would never! Why would you even—he's one of the strongest people I--"

"Will you call me weak?"

Horrified eyes widen further. "No! I—"

"Angeal said to me once that, up to a certain point, nightmares are good for us. That they remind us that, even as SOLDIERs, we are distressingly human. No better than anyone else." 

Genesis's pulse quickens. He wants to take it back, he realizes, the admission, every single cell in his body screeching in objection, at the crack it showed in the mask. The words to do so, right there at the tip of his tongue, scathing and vicious, the lie. The deflection. 

To play it a cruel joke. 

"Really?"

Genesis huffs, impatient to silence that inner voice. "By all means, ask the puppy if you don't believe me."

"No, I mean, you really don't think it's... weak?"

 _Hmpf!_ "You have a good heart, Cloud Strife. Truthfully, it would be more surprising if you weren't fazed by what you experienced." And he'd rather not consider what that means for him, thank you very much. For his own state of mind and heart that he fails to dream of anyone else but himself these days, falling into dark, never the ones who truly have fallen, the ones he could not save. 

"But I was so scared..."

Genesis's hands slide up the blond's legs. "Yes. So was....so was I." There it is. Another crack in his mask. Ugly and unmistakable. 

Cloud's eyes are painfully young. The way he's hugging himself isn't helping. "Because of me? Zack said he'd have missed me if—I thought he was just humoring me.""

"Don't do that either. Don't sell yourself short like that." Feeling his temper flair is expected. The subject has been burning on his mind for a long time. "Tell me, who ever made you think this little of yourself?" He taps Cloud's forehead. "How did they get into that stubborn head of yours so severely? Tell me, and I can--I thought playing around with Zack Fair and a sword would help your low self esteem, but that does seem not to be the case."

"You _know_?"

"Did you truly believe I wouldn't make inquiries after that stunt of yours? Both of you?"

"You never said!"

"Was I supposed to?"

"Yes! It's against the rules! Zack could have been--"

"The puppy will be perfectly fine. I covered the tracks he could not. As I have said, Cloud Strife, I also hoped you would benefit from it in the long run, and not just by honing your skills." He certainly would have put an end to the impromptu lessons if he'd thought them to be unprofitable to either of them, or found Zack Fair lacking in any way. 

"You—you kept tabs on us. After Zack—after we broke into your office."

"Yes."

" _Why_?"

"Let's say I was... curious. Even Zack Fair doesn't burglarize purely on a whim." It may be a little more complicated than that, but his reasons are his alone and they will stay that way. _Angeal, I need you to get back here._

"Would you—"

"No."

"You don't even know what I--"

Genesis sighs. "Yes. I do. I make a horrid teacher, Cloud Strife. There is a reason I'm not expected to instruct recruits." 

"Oh." He looks crestfallen at the disclosure. Genesis is near tempted to take it back. "I just thought....I don't even know what I thought..."

"It's fine. Cloud--"

Something in Genesis's voice must give his intent away, because Cloud's entire face closes off just like that. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Perhaps you should." It's what Angeal would say, he has no doubt. Swallowing his pride, he makes himself go on, "And if you're not... comfortable talking to me, I'm certain the puppy will be more than willing to listen."

"I just don't want either of you to think less of me, you know? I just got you, I am not going to give it all up because of some stupid--"

Irritation shapes his tone into bullets. "Have you not been listening to a word I said?"

"I--"

"Do not doubt yourself so much! Goddess, one would think you would get some 'kick' out of getting private lessons from one of ShinRa's most popular SOLDIERs and sharing my bed, but no!"

"Are you... mad at me?"

The anger deflates in the face of Cloud's rightful incredulity. "I'm not." He really isn't. Not at Cloud, at least. Himself, well, that is another matter altogether. "I just wish I could—do something. To help, get it.... right. I'm not good at such things. Perhaps when you are SOLDIER, I can--" He cuts himself off. Useless. It's useless. Standing, he pries the plate from Cloud's lax grip. "Motivational speeches are Angeal's forte, following your dreams, honor and all that, maybe he can talk some confidence into you once he returns."

Cloud's voice stops his feet before they can steer him further away from his guest and through the open doorway. "Genesis..."

"What."

Arms encircle his waist. Genesis nearly drops the plate. He never heard Cloud move. "Do you really think I can make it into the program?" 

The blond's whispering, words barely reaching Genesis's ears. "You have improved your swordplay a great deal under the puppy's tutelage. If you keep up the hard work, I don't see why not."

Cloud's smaller body molds itself to his back. "I'll talk to you and Zack if you think it'll help, but not today. Today was... so nice, I don't want to ruin this," he says as he hugs Genesis tight, "with that. Okay?"

Genesis sighs in defeat. "Fine. What do you suggest we do then? You do require more sleep tonight." _Hypocrite!_

"Would you read to me?"

He blinks, blindsided. Read? Well, yes. "Any requests?"

Cloud's nose brushes his spine where the blond shakes his head no. "You pick."

"Go lie down, then." 

He wastes far too much time in front of his bookshelves, deciding, plucking out one book and then another, only to put them all right back. Loveless would be the obvious choice, of course, but Genesis refuses to be that predictable. In the end he picks another favorite, one that has been in his possession for a very, very long time, longer even than he's been in Midgar. 

As soon as he settles on his bed, Cloud nestles into his side with his head pillowed on Genesis's thigh and a hand loosely curled around it. He's also still wearing Genesis's sweater. Genesis pats his head, scratching at his hair. "Comfortable?" Cloud hums confirmation into his leg, smiling. "Well, then..." He opens the book. Well-loved as it has been, it opens for him on the very first page.

" _Once when I was six years old, I saw a magnificent picture in a book about the primeval forest, called_ True Stories of Nature. _It was a picture of a boa constrictor in the act of swallowing an animal...._ **"

* * *

  


"Men have forgotten this truth," said the fox, "but you must not forget it. You become responsible, forever,  
for what you have tamed."  
– Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, ** _The Little Prince_

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have any of you read _The Little Prince_? For me, it's a book I absolutely adore, so that's why Genesis had the pleasure of getting to read it to Cloud here... ;) 
> 
> Take care, everyone!


	8. Forever Young - Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of Days . . .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sigh* I know. This is so very late I can't even say 'sorry' anymore, no matter how sorry I am. It's why I decided to split the chapter so you all won't have to wait yet even longer and until my brain will kindly unf*ck itself where this fic is concerned. 
> 
> That said, thank you all for your comments and kudos and for sticking around! *hugs* But, enough said! On with the story...

There's yet another tempered with book for him in the mail on a Thursday, the fifth in a seemingly growing collection.

Another red envelope. He doesn't open either.

Irony twist his mouth into a sardonic grin. He can't even pick up the paper knife without cutting himself, let alone the rapier sitting useless at his feet. His fingers have been numb since he fell asleep the night before, a blond head tugged under his chin.

From the newspaper folded on the table, half of Sephiroth's face stares at him, the headline proclaiming yet another heroic deed in overly large font, no doubt. He hasn't heard from Sephiroth in a long while. The news are chock full with coverage of his doings, though, the Hero of Wutai, of stories and fairy tales, one more glorious than the next.

Papers, television, _newsletters_ , and the masses are eating it up.

Genesis is less than impressed.

His gaze drops to the three folders half buried under today's headlines. No matter Sephiroth's prolonged absence, there's less and less paperwork on his desk. Less and less talk within his earshot. He pretends not to notice while it eats at him, fuels the paranoia itching under his skin like nails scratching without consent.

The idea that he's been kept out of the loop, Genesis can't shake it, can't get rid of it no matter what he does or which way he turns. It's everywhere. The idea, it grows a head and a tail, it grows wings.

A life of its own.

It comes to a head when he attends a well-recommended Loveless performance at an old theater in the slums. A gem of old, remnant of bygone times where hopes and dreams were still for everyone, waiting to be picked off the streets and plucked from thin air. Her facade is ashen now, worn down from years of pollution and neglect, a once proud construct faded gray with her surroundings.

He doesn't have a private loge here. The theater lacks space for such follies, but he does favor certain seats over others and the current owner—an elderly lady with gray hair and a lavender painted smile—always keeps at least one available when there's to be a new production he might be interested in.

Genesis knows she has a granddaughter to take care of, a husband who worked for ShinRa Inc. before he fell ill. He also understands her husband's malady to be the reason she doesn't care much for the company Genesis works for, yet she never fails to approach him with a courtesy he doesn't feel he's earned in any way.

He's usually alone in his row when he goes to find his seat. Not tonight.

"First Class Rhapsodos."

Genesis ignores the offered hand in favor of sitting. He's not on the job. "I never took you for a playgoer, Director."

Lazard uses the snubbed hand to pick up the program, completely unruffled. "I am, just not as avid as you, I admit. Tonight makes simply for an interesting opportunity, let's say."

"Oh?"

"Yes. In fact, and if I may be so bold, you might find this to be a very interesting conversation as well."

The lights go dark. On stage, a lone figure emerges from the shadows. Her dress flows in the artificial breeze, dancing shades against the blaze of a single spotlight.

"Do I, now?"

A soft chuckle to his right. There's no one sitting close enough to overhear, yet Genesis keeps one watchful eye on the audience anyway. "Yes. It is, besides, concerning Angeal Hewley."

Even gifted an actor as he prides himself to be, it's difficult to keep the reaction from his face. To keep his fingers from clawing into the upholstery and ruining it.

"I thought that would get your attention. There's been a lot of—information recently that is being... kept from certain individuals." A pause for simple dramatic effect. "On purpose." When he still fails to react, Lazard goes on like he hadn't been waiting for one. "There have also been... decisions made that, frankly, are unsatisfactory in the light of other ventures."

On the stage, a warrior draws his weapon.

Genesis's fingers itch for his own.

Lazard doesn't speak as if he knows. The warrior has long since taken his exit when he continues. "There has been... discussion of cleaning house."

Genesis pretends the icy shiver breathing down his neck is the air conditioning. "I presume you are not referring to ShinRa's cleaning personnel."

Once more Lazard remains silent, hands neatly folded around the rolled up program until the auditory bursts with new turmoil of sounds and flashing lights.

"You must have wondered why you haven't been deployed to Wutai. A convincing case has been put forward that the company will be better off getting rid of some of their most prominent failures now than risk getting... burnt in the future."

"And which failures would you be speaking of?"

"Two decades ago a few selected women were part of an experiment to conduct something more. Something... greater. Does that sound familiar, Genesis?"

It does. Uncomfortable so.

There's near half a dozen books filled with snippets of reports that describe exactly that.

"The people commissioning the project buried the truth as far as they could in the light of other, more prominent events, but there are still individuals who have excess to corresponding files and contracts. Names."

Dread crawls up his throat like tiny, eight legged beasts. "And why, pray tell, are you telling me this?"

Genesis can make an educated guess or ten.

Not one would be particularly reassuring.

"I have a proposition for you."  


* * *

  
Genesis barely sleeps anymore.

The nights are cold, too long in ways nights have no right to be and with dreams that terrify him, dreams that drown him in warm blood and feathers the color of ashes. When he wakes, he wakes with fear clogging his throat like a physical thing, trembling and aching, and the prospect of such horrors, of weaknesses showcased so clearly, most days it is enough to cure him of his exhaustion.

Most nights he spends reading.

Sometimes he visits the observation deck of SOLDIER training room four late at night to watch a SOLDIER and a trooper exchange blows and laughter and words. Watches as Zack Fair corrects a stand or movement here and there, a redundant shift of feet or the slight twist of a wrist that could shatter bones in seconds if it were actual combat.

Watches them jog around the empty room in half silences and fits of folly.

Watches as hands ruffle hair and lips pout and protest and eyes shine.

He watches and he wonders, Loveless a disregarded keepsake on his lap.

If they are aware of his presence, they never speak of it. Never ask about it. Not once. Perhaps they don't know how he keeps watch over them some nights. Perhaps Zack Fair is a better actor than Genesis gives him credit for.

Then there are the nights he watches Cloud Strife sleep.

Watches the rise and fall of his chest with each draw of breath. The lines of his face, open and relaxed. That's when Genesis feels like himself again, lucid and human. Less like he's a stranger in his own body. Less like the world is crumbling, free falling, waiting to hit something solid and shatter into a million razor sharp pieces, tearing apart everything in proximity, be it friend or foe.

The ones close to him. Closer, closest, the person whose warmth still soothes pain and temper, calms the fear foaming. The thoughts playing like movies in his head.

Sometimes he buries his face in the blond's neck just to breathe. Sometimes it helps and he can fall asleep, and the hysteria lurking in most corners of his mind keeps away. Sometimes he dreams of watching Cloud Strife sleep, a glittering shard buried in his neck and a growing stain of red blood under his motionless body.

Genesis considers himself above things as childish as calling out in his sleep. There are nights he wonders if that still holds true. Nights when he wakes to find Cloud already watching him, holding Genesis's hand or stroking his face. Genesis doesn't care to find out if there is a pattern, and if there is, a reason behind the pattern.

His pride doesn't allow it. Couldn't take the blow.

They never talk after finding themselves like that. Sometimes they lie in each other's arms. Sometimes they kiss. Sometimes they have sex. Always slow, so very slow and careful, gentle caresses of hands and mouths like Cloud is afraid of hurting him, breaking him, holding each other until dawn. Cloud never blames him for the faint bruises that come from being held too tight. Not once.

Genesis does.

Daggers of guilt cutting away at him for he knows better, knows the horrors he is capable of. Yet there he is, selfish in his desires when he should just... let go.

It's what drives him from his bed on other nights, when his mind laughs at him too loud for clinging to a warm body like a child, dragging a bright soul down into a bleeding dark it doesn't belong. Those nights Genesis hides. In an endless stream of water that washes away the blood and the fire and the sweat. Water that swirls pink around his ankles. Water he stares at for so long that his stomach eventually stops churning.

The snick of a door; over rushing water, feet, shuffling into the room. Naked footsteps on stone tiles. It takes too long to process what that means, so long that they join his in the pool of pallid pink. Arms loop around his waist and tip a bed warm weight into his back. Cloud hums, gentle vibrations against wet skin. "Hmm, found you..."

"Have I been lost, Cloud Strife?"

"Mhmm..."

"How so?"

"...hm." Cloud hugs him tighter. "You've been so... distant sometimes, so sad." He is already drawing breath to deny, to protest, to say that, no, he isn't, he is fine, when the blond quietens him with a simple shushing noise. "I know you don't want me to see, so I don't... say anything, but I do see." A kiss to his spine. It sparks goosebumps down his arms. "Are you—please, please don't lie?—are you okay?"

He doesn't _want_ to lie. He doesn't want to tell the truth. Panic trickles in between both thoughts and under his skin, slip-slides beneath the pain into a racing heart. Saying nothing says everything though, he figures that out much too late with the soft inquiry of his name. 

"Genesis?"

Illustrates perfectly just how aware of it Cloud is, too.

When he fails to respond, Cloud ducks under his arm to stand in front of him.

"Oh, oh you...." Gentle hands touch his face. He tries his hardest not to flinch. "Your—your nose is bleeding..."

"Don't—"

"It's okay, it's just blood." He doesn't want it on him. Genesis doesn't want it anywhere near him. Doesn't want to taint him with this... filth. Yet here he is, powerless against the faintest touch of fingertips. "No, no, don't move. Here, let me..."

Oh, oh but then he already has, hasn't he. Already has tainted him. Such filth, that--

Genesis stares dumbly as cloth dabs at the blood. It... it won't do any good. It will stop when it stops, no sooner, but he doesn't want to acknowledge that, so once more he wraps himself in silence, lets Cloud do as he pleases. Lets him until the white cloth is dyed red and the caring spark in blue eyes has made room for fear and more questions than he can answer.

He brushes the concern away with shaking hands, folding Cloud’s body into his arm, so close and so warm, so he doesn't have to _see_. _Coward!_ Genesis flinches, blood painting pale flesh with thin red lines where Genesis buries his face to silence the demons in his head. Cowardice tastes like copper, skin and regret.

Cloud stills within the circle of his arms. "What's wrong?"

"What isn't." He buries the words in wet flesh. Wonders—wishes—if perhaps they'll go unheard. No such luck.

"Can I... help?"

"It's better when you're near." And, Goddess, _what is he doing_? He shouldn't even think this terrible, selfish truth, let alone voice it! They are—they shouldn't—Cloud _shouldn't_ be here. He's not—he doesn't belong here, not with him, not with where he's--

"I—what is better?" Genesis shakes his head once, sharply, holding Cloud closer. There will be bruises tomorrow morning, too. "Genesis?"

"It's fine."

"No. It's not 'fine.' You're hurting..."

And—no. No. _Do not do this._ He retreats. Makes his feet take one, two, five steps back and another, even as something far away screams to have that closeness back, an odd, hurting thing that keeps thrashing and turning and fighting. "I am fine, Cloud Strife. Do not worry your pretty, little head about it."

A look of hurt crosses Cloud's expression. It's disconcerting how quickly the blond is able to conceal it, cover it up like it never existed at all. It aches; deep down it aches, but it needs not--

"Let's go back to bed."

Genesis's skin is on fire when he crawls beneath the sheets, the finest of silks seemingly as coarse as dirt cheap cotton, lies there and pretends not to wait, to wish. To hope. In the bathroom, the shower turns off. _Pleasepleaseplease...._ Wet footsteps stray near, nearer, interrupted by the flip of a light switch and a door.

They hesitate for three, four heart stopping seconds before picking up the pace again and leading the other straight to the edge of the bed. But there Cloud is, all indecision gone as sheets lift and slide and a warm body slips between them.

Blood continues to trickle from Genesis's nose. Slow and steady.

By morning he'll have to throw out the sheets. A shame. He's always liked this particular shade of red. Perhaps he can—A feeling startles him. A gentle brush to Genesis's hand where it's splayed by his head.

Genesis's eyes are slow to open.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry."

Mouth dry as he tries his voice, he stares at their linked pinkies. "You weren't." Cloud is worried. There's a difference, he knows. Genesis just can't afford to let him--

"You're still bleeding."

"I know."

"Does it hurt?"

Genesis's lashes brush the pillow in a slow sweep when he blinks Cloud's face into focus. "...my nose?"

"Whatever it is that's bothering you."

 _Only when I breathe...._ "No."

Cloud squeezes their fingers together. "Liar."

"Yes."

Cloud stares, eyes so soft Genesis wishes he had the strength to look away. To save him from having to witness even the smallest part of this. He doesn't notice one of them is moving until the mattress sways his weight with Cloud rolling over, not away as he should, but closer. In renewed fascination it is that Genesis looks on as the blond folds his hand over Genesis's and brings it up to his mouth.

Like this, like always, with Cloud's lips pressed to the back of his cold, cold fingers, silent, they wait for the night to end.  


* * *

  
Angeal returns on a Saturday.

With a unit of nameless, injured infantrymen and a handful of other SOLDIERs in the middle of the night under the spotlights of ShinRa's helipad, unheralded and only to be wheeled away by a small flock of white coats in the blink of an eye.

Or so the narration goes.

Genesis hadn't learned of this until the very early hours of the morning, coming across a pair of jaded scientists.

Hours later, and not a single snippet of useful information has trickled down to him—except for the faltering confirmation of a discomposed nurse that, oh, yes, Commander Hewley has indeed arrived and is currently treated for exhaustion, and no, he cannot receive visitors at the moment, "I am so sorry, Sir."

His phone buzzes in his hand as he rounds another corner, earning more disapproving looks as he goes. _`ned tlk 2 U whre R u`_

Genesis huffs. _`Use proper spelling and punctuation and I might deign to speak to you.`_

There's a row of chairs off to the side of the entrance hall, plastic and uncomfortable and nothing Genesis Rhapsodos would settle for. He plans to make himself an inconvenience, though, and sooner rather than later someone _will_ have to speak to him or there will be--

 _`Sorry! Where are you? I need to talk to you.`_ And a following text before Genesis can type out a response, _`It's important.`_

 _`Infirmary. Angeal has returned.`_ How is that for important?

There's a minute pause before his phone chirps again. _`b thre in sec`_

In a strange sense of déjà-vu he hears Fair long before he sees him. It's the same pitter-patter of footsteps, the same sense of urgency that takes him back to a darkened hospital room and bloodied, blond hair. The desperation, it claws back under Genesis's skin, weaves into the cadence of his heartbeat.

In the here and now, the dark-haired Second heads for Genesis like a puppy brought to heel. Genesis almost laughs at his wide eyed expression. "Is he okay? Have you seen him? How is he? Kunsel said--"

Oh.... "Kunsel?"

"Well, yeah? He's the reason I texted you in the first place. He thought he saw—when he was down here—I--do you know--"

Genesis holds up a hand. "Settle down, puppy."

"I—uh. Okay, so Kunsel was down here last night 'cause of—he has this... friend, you see, she's a—well, yeah, not important! Point is, he was down here and he swears he saw that ponytailed creep with the Buster Sword when he left. That's why I texted you, I was going to ask if you heard anything..."

"Yes."

Arms spread out, Zack Fair is the picture of patience running short. "And?"

"And nothing, puppy, what did you expect?"

"Huh. I—might...huh." He holds up a finger. "Just... wait a sec!"

What else does he think Genesis is going to do? Irritated, Genesis listens to the pattern of Fair's gait down halls and around corners until it abruptly stops and backtracks. "Oh, Gina, hi! Almost didn't see ya in there!"

Genesis tilts his head into the wall, closing his eyes.

"Oh, Zack, hello!"

Genesis is appalled to realize he recognizes her voice, passed by her enough times to put a face to it, to recall kind green eyes framed by graying brown hair. "Hey! I was wondering if you could tell me about--"

"First Class Hewley? I was wondering if you'd show. But no, sorry. He's not one of mine, darling."

"Aww, just—you must have heard something, right? Please? Just....is he okay? I mean, he's been gone for so long and now--" Genesis would compliment his acting skills, but no. Puppy isn't acting. For curious reasons, it increases the worry gnawing on his mind. "Can't you—isn't there anything you can do, like, someone you could ask, I dunno, just--"

The puppy's breath catches and Genesis opens his eyes. The plain white ceiling grants him no answers, no peace of mind, unhelpful as well as uninteresting. He scowls. The nurse walking past darts a curious glance at him.

"It's all right, I understand. It must be hard to—love, here, come sit with me for a minute. There we go. Anyway, from what I heard, he was very weak when he arrived last night, but not gravely wounded. I do know people of the science department have been called in, so I think they'll take good care of your mentor."

Genesis snorts loudly. For some reason he doubts that very, very much, but alas.

"Do ya know when we maybe get to see him--"

"I don't know, darling, I'm sorry. I would assume First Class Rhapsodos to know more, all things considered. Could you maybe get in touch with him?"

"Yeah, no, Genesis is here. No one told him anything!"

"Oh, I wasn't aware—I think all you can do is wait, then."

"Yeah, probably." A weak chuckle. "Sorry for being such a downer..."

"It's quite all right. Like I said, I get it. If you need anything, let me know, okay?"

"Will do. Thanks Gina!"

_Thanks for nothing._

Genesis re-closes his eyes in undue disappointment. The glare of the overhead lights paints Zack Fair a dark, larger than life shadow on the back of Genesis's eyelids.

"Did you hear." All traces of subdue are gone from his voice, but the easy cadence of confidence grates Genesis's ears. "I—He should be fine, right? It sounded like it, didn't it? That it wasn't maybe all that--"

Genesis snorts, resentful. "Did you listen to what she said, or did you hear what you wanted to hear?" None of this is the puppy's fault. Genesis doesn't even blame him. He only blames himself for wishing he could still believe the same.

"I—You don't think he's--"

"You should take her advise, it is, astonishingly, a sound one."

"Aww, man, I just... gah! I hate this, freaking secrets! But hey, at least the scientists are taking care of him, too, right? They know what to do."

Genesis resentful mood turns black and his eyes open. "Certainly."

"You—you don't think so?"

No, he does not, but... "It doesn't matter what I think."

"But—"

"Sit. Quiet."

The chair next to his teeters with the force of Zack Fair dropping into it, groaning. 

Genesis pats his head. "Well done, puppy."  


* * *

  
The monotone back and forth of feet is going to leave marks on the floor. It's certainly left marks on him, seeing as Fair's pacing has started to give Genesis a dreadful headache.

"What is taking them so friggin' long? It's not that hard to get out here and say something, right? I mean, if he really hasn't been hurt that bad, what's taking them so long to--"

And the talking! The constant ranting, going around in circles! _Goddess!_ Genesis no longer bothers to reply.

He hums his appreciation whenever there's an expectant pause in Fair's monologue, certainly, but the headache is getting worse with every syllable, every screech of boots on polished linoleum, spreading down his neck and into his fingertips until the buzz at the back of his mind near drowns out Fair's voice and there's a sharp nudge to Genesis's foot.

His nails dig into unforgiving plastic, throat closing on a pained hiss.

"Are you even listening to me?"

"No."

Zack Fair kicks him. Hard. "The hell, Genesis?!"

It hurts more than it has the right to. "Do not do that again."

"What is _wrong_ with you? How can you sit here and—how can you be so chill—don't you care? Don't ya want to know what's--"

A sound like thunderclap in his head.

Lightning spreading into his feet. His vision goes first white and then SOLDIER eyes blue and the helpless anger looking at him through them, it is crippling. His—why are—his ears are ringing. Why can't—why can't he breathe? He blinks and Zack Fair is gone, but there's still no air and Genesis's lips are moving yet he makes no sound and that is--

He doesn't—what—Something brushes the back of his hand. Genesis's body flinches, eyes cutting down, ready to strike out if--

_Oh._

Kneeling at Genesis's feet, that's where he... when did the puppy—when did he move? He hadn't even—his lips are moving too, he is talking, Genesis vaguely recognizes, looking at him beseeching, but Genesis doesn't—he can't—cold sweat on his neck, fear like ashen feathers choking him. Is this—is it a dream, is he—please be a dream?

A vice like grip on his arm. Genesis looks down at a hand, fingers that circle his wrist and squeeze. Hearts are beating too quick. Why?

"—hear me?"

What a ridiculous thing to--

"Just, please? I'm sorry, I didn't mean—I know you're—just please, please say something, are you—do you--"

 _You are like a child_ , a distant part chides, begging and rambling, terrified and trying so hard not to show it while clinging to Genesis's hand. Genesis turns it, clinging back, and what does... what does it make him, then? Worse, for he is not—he should not need anyone to-- _I... I don't._

"What—what if he—what if--"

"No." He finds his voice then, somewhere, faint and dark. "No. Don't you dare say it."

Whatever it is he sees looking at Genesis, pain flares in Fair's eyes. "I—I'm sorry. Sorry."

"Don't. Just, don't."

Biting his lips, the SOLDIER nods. And nods again. And can't seem to stop his wobbling head until he drops his forehead to Genesis's knees and stays there.

Warm wet trickles from Genesis's nose. His hand comes away red when he wipes it away.  


* * *

  
It's a beautiful day outside.

Not that anyone would know it from wandering the halls of the infirmary, mind, an endless maze of windowless corridors and blinding artificial lights.

Those looping halls, Genesis has become acquainted to them once more. 

And not like a ghost under the veil of night, but every hour of the day if it so pleases him. Like now. Smirking, Genesis opens the door to Angeal's room—right into Zack Fair's face.

"Whoa, careful, I need that!"

Oh, yes, he isn't the only one playing loose with visiting hours, lest he forget. "Well, perhaps you shouldn't linger in doorways then! And I don't see what's so special about it either way."

"Hey! It's a nice face! And I was on my way outta that door, so excuse me if i--!" The warm timbre of Angeal's amusement is music to his ears. The lines of exhaustion still present around his friend's eyes and mouth, though, they carve marks into Genesis's heart, deep and long and agonizing. The puppy isn't half as attentive as he whirls on his mentor, wide eyed betrayal coming off him in waves. "It is!"

"Of course! I'm just kidding, Zack."

"Yeah, well, good!"

Come to think of it, "what are you so sickeningly happy about anyhow?"

"No reason! I mean, dunno about you, Genesis, but it's a beautiful day, the birds are chirping, I have the rest of the day off--"

Angeal leans closer, hand half shielding his mouth like he's passing on a secret of uttermost importance. "Zack's got a date."

"Traitor!"

 _Goddess help us!_ "Do remember that this place can't handle another puppy yapping about. And frankly, Zack Fair, neither can I."

It makes for a strange mix of sounds assaulting his fatigued body, Angeal's roaring laughter and Fair's red faced protestations, but no matter the ever present pain lurking behind his temples, it's oddly comforting, too.

"It's not like that! I'm gonna be all gentlemanly and shit! She's not—she's sweet, 'kay? Special! I don't wanna--"

"Relax, puppy, he's kidding, too."

"Yeah, I know, but still! It's not like that! She's--"

The way he keeps bumbling on about it, Genesis is inclined to believe him. "Good luck..."

"I—oh. Thanks!" Of course he's is determined to miss Genesis's biting sarcasm. "Which I totally won't need, cause--"

"You're totally not planning to get laid."

"Yeah!"

"What _are_ you planning?" He's feeling oddly indulging. Perhaps it's that the puppy's presence has Angeal smiling more and more every day.

"I'm gonna dress up, pick her up, take her to dinner and then we'll go see a movie or something, that kinda thing, ya know, only, special. All romantic!"

"That reminds me. Zack, why don't you ask Genesis here if he has some advise."

"Uh, I don't think--"

Frowning, Genesis utters a distracted, "Does she like flowers?"

"Oh, yeah! Get this, she takes care of these flowers in that little church in the slums, and it's—anyway! I was going to get her a bunch of roses, so that's kinda--"

For some reason the triteness of such gesture irks him. "Don't. If you know what her favorites are and you can acquire them someplace, get her a few of those instead. That way she'll know your exuberant puppy self pays attention to inconsequential details, too."

Fair blinks. "I—that's kinda a really sweet idea, I think. Huh."

He catches Angeal’s knowing smile out of the corner of his eyes. "I agree."

Genesis scoffs, abruptly uncomfortable with their careful consideration. Not that it lasts long. Thankfully, dependably, it's the puppy who breaks them out of it, loudly. "Aww crap! I need to go! Kunsel's waiting for me! Thanks for the pep talk, Angeal! See you guys later!"

"Hey Zack?"

Already half out of the door, he sticks his head back around the corner. "Yeah?"

"Have fun!"

If one were prone to dramatics, one would say Fair's smile lights up the entire room. "Thanks! Bye, Gen!"

Genesis lifts his hand to halfheartedly wave him off—until his parting words sink in. Then he drops it rather promptly. "Angeal. What did your mutt just call me."

Angeal hums quietly, pushing himself upright and around. "I think you heard him fine."

Genesis narrows his eyes. "For Goddess's sake, stop squirming like a child! You're near as dreadful as the puppy!"

"I'm fine, _Gen_. Sitting in a bed all day is dull anyway. Come on. Do your friendly duty, entertain me."

"What do you want me to do? Juggle materia?"

"Don't trifle with company property, Genesis," his friend chides with a grin. "No. Why don't you finally tell me about that new friend of yours."

"There's nothing to tell."

"Oh I don't know about that; Zack had _plenty_ to say about you two."

Genesis can feel himself going abruptly still. "Well, clearly Fair has too much time on his hands if he can gossip about things he knows nothing about!"

"How long have we known each other? You have to know I won't judge you." 

Not judging, no, but if he just thought about it for a while he'd come to the same conclusion Genesis has. He should never have allowed Cloud to get this close. Not like this, not so intimately. With who he is, it's so very--

A hand clamps down on his shoulder.

He shouldn't—he shouldn't lean so far out of-- "You—don't move around so--" Should he? It can't be good for--

"Yes, you said, but Genesis, what's wrong?" Mirth has been replaced by confusion and concern. _No, no, Angeal, don’t you do that!_ "You look like you're going to be sick." Does he? He feels it, though, nausea bubbling right beneath his skin. "Stop it. Talk to me."

Genesis almost shrinks away from the kindness. He won't look. He knows the expression that goes with that particular timbre well enough, and after all these years it's still humiliating to know he craves it even just a little. Something gleeful yawns and unfurls at the back of his head. It's cackling. Genesis resists the urge to cover his ears.

"He thinks I'm nice." He's whispering, quiet and young like when they were children sharing secrets, hiding out in a barn reading books they shouldn't, dreaming up futures and fairy-tales that would never come to pass. Perhaps the thing won't hear, if he'll just-- "I'm—I'm not nice, Angeal."

_I don't... I don't need—_

"Yes, you are." And oh, if only that were true! If only he could believe! If only it would-- "Or you can be, if you let yourself. _Let_ yourself. He makes you happy."

"Why—" _...no, no..._ "--why would you--"

"...You're smiling."

 _Oh_. The smile slips away like prey in the dark, frightened.

"Don't—don't _do_ that. You're--" The grip on his shoulder tightens. "Genesis. What happened?"

 _I'm... I think there's everything wrong with--_ "Nothing."

"Nonsense. I know you. What's the matter, what's going on in that stubborn head of yours?"

It's impossible to lie, so he doesn't. "I'm so tired..."

His body is heavy and weak and his mind is--

"Gen—"

\--going to split apart soon if—He permits for his eyes to slip shut. For once the darkness that greets him is only black. "So, so tired."

Silence follows him into that dark. When Angeal breaks it, it's careful and considerate. "Pull up a bed and lie down. I'm going to tell everyone who comes in here you're a figment of their imagination. No one will bother you..."

His eyes burn but Genesis distorts his lips into a smirk. It hurts.

"Genesis..."

"I'm so—Angeal, I'm so glad you're back...."

  


* * *

  


Sephiroth returns on a Wednesday.

Genesis doesn't find out for days. 

* * *

. . .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, so this is where some plot-ish things start to happen....


End file.
